1^  PRINCETON,  N.  J. 


BX  5122    .B37  V52  1886 
Baring-Gould,   S.  1834-1924 
The  village  pulpit 


Village  .  • .  • 
.  • .  •  .  Pulpit 


Presbyterian  Church,  Fort  Edward,  N.  Y. 

CHARLES  D.  KELLOGG,  Pastor. 


NOV  2  1917 


January,  i88g. 

'How  to  Read." 


JPrice  10  Cents. 


I^er  Y'eav,  $1,00. 


Digitized  by  tlie  Internet  Arcinive 
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Luke  X:  26.     What  is  written  in  the  law  f  how  readi- 
est thou? 


'HE  Questioner  and  the  questioned  on  this  occasion 


I  are  of  the  deepest  interest.  He  who  puts  these  ques- 
tions is  the  Eternal  Author  of  law.  He  is  the  Being 
in  whom  law  had  its  origin,  from  whom  it  derives  its 
authority,  in  whom  it  possesses  its  force.  Law  is  law 
because  He  uttered  it.  Into  the  presence  of  this  Au- 
thor of  law,  a  professional  lawyer  has  come.  One 
whose  life  work  is  to  transcribe  and  rewrite  that  law, 
its  infinite  Author  has  given.  The  two  men  are  thus 
brought  closely  together,  as  we  might  say,  profession- 
ally. In  their  vital  interest  in  law.  He  who  gave  it, 
and  he  who  has  studied  it  all  his  life.  No  wonder  the 
questions  of  the  Master  were  with  relation  to  the 
common  theme,  and  the  mutual  ground  of  contact- 
that  which  brought  them  together  in  person  not  only, 
but  that  which  allied  them  in  thought— law.  Tjie 
questions  the  Master  puts  are  wholly  divergent  in 
their  character,  and  involve  two  very  different  things. 
The  one  is  abstract,  the  other  is  concrete.  The  one  is 
fact,  the  other  is  idea.  The  one  is  outward.  The  other 
is  within.  The  one  relates  to  a  book;  the  other  in- 
volves a  life.  "What  is  written  in  the  law?  how  read- 
est  thou?"  The  one  of  these  questions  is  very  easy 
to  answer.  The  other — not  so  easy.  This  lawyer, 
catching  on  at  once  to  the  easier,  answers  it  with  all  a 


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lawyer's  acumen,  and  with  all  a  scribe's  enthusiasm. 
He  could  give  in  a  nutshell  what  was  '"written  in  the 
law."  He  never  answered  the  other  except  uninten- 
tionally; as  ,in  that  interview  with  the  Master,  he  told 
what  he  didn't  intend  to  tell.  In  words,  he  answered 
the  first  question;  in  spirit,  he  answered  the  other. 
Now,  the  Master's  hearing  was  equally  alert,  whether 
He  listened  to  a  man's  voice,  or  heard  the  silent  lan- 
guage of  a  man's  soul.  He  hears  us  when  we  speak, 
and  He  hears  the  inner  voices  of  spirit  that  find  no 
utterance,  that  are  too  ardent  for  speech.  He  listened 
to  this  lawyer's  words,  and  He  listened  to  his  life.  In 
one  way  He  got  the  answer  to  the  one  question;  in 
the  other  to  the  other.  Both  problems  were  solved — 
what  was  in  the  law — the  old  question  that  had  been 
answered  so  many  times,  and  the  new  question  of  the 
hour,  what  was  in  that  law  for  him  who  spoke,  how  he 
read  it.  The  vocal  answer  was  quick,  comprehensive, 
lawyer-like  and  comjDlete.  It  was  a  splendid  presen- 
tation of  his  case  before  the  clearest-headed  Judge, 
lawyer  ever  addressed.  And  he  answering  said, 
"Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord,  thy  God,  with  all  thy 
heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  strength, 
and  with  all  thy  mind,  and  thy  neighbor  as  thyself." 
To  that  studied,  shrewd  reply  the  Author  of  law  gave 
this  testimony:  "Thou  hast  answered  right."  Buc 
that  other  question.  Unwittingly,  and  without  in- 
tent, he  gives  answer  to  that .  Not  in  words,  as  I 
have  said.  He  doesn't  tell  in  speech.  Bat  his  posture 
of  soul  gives  answer.    His  attitude  of  spirit  tells  the 


3 


tale.  That  question  he  puts  to  the  Master  gives  him 
away.  If  he  intended  to  have  any  secret  in  his  life, 
that  laid  it  open.  If  he  proposed  to  keep  anything 
back,  that  question  was  a  full  surrender.  It  showed 
just  how  he  read  the  law,  just  the  way  he  looked  into 
it,  and  just  the  way  he  had  been  accustomed  to  be  its 
interpreter.  And  this  was  the  open  window  he  lifted 
before  the  Master.  "He,  willing  to  justify  himself, 
said  unto  Jesus,  And  who  is  my  neighbor?"  To 
whom  do  I  owe  obligation  ?  Whom  am  I  to  love  as  I 
love  myself?  The  whole  man  lay  open.  A  life  was 
all  exposed.  Long  years  were  on  exhibition.  He  was 
a  self-righteous,  self- satisfied,  self-centered  Pharisee 
after  all.  And  he  read  the  law  after  a  Pharisee's 
fashion.  "To  justify  himself."  To  prove  that  he 
was  all  right.  He  read  the  law  in  the  narrowness 
of  the  letter,  that  would  regard  as  his  neighbor  only 
the  man  or  the  woman  that  lived  next  door.  The  sec- 
ond door  from  his,  he  would  recognize  no  obli- 
gation. That  was  too  far  off.  So  he  showed  himself 
an  ingenious  splitter  of  hairs,  a  genuine  Jewish  casu- 
ist, wrapped  up  and  closely  folded  in  the  minor  mat- 
ters of  the  law.  He  revealed  his  posture  of  soul.  He 
shewed  his  inmost  attitude  of  spirit.  Just  what  he 
was.  J  ust  how  he  read  the  law .  For  these  lives  of 
ours  are  sometimes  wrongly  judged  when  we  look  in 
on  sudden  moments  of  sudden  impulse.  The  tenor 
and  the  trend  of  life  are  the  only  solution;  just  what 
this  lawyer  opened  to  the  Master  that  day  they  met  in 
Jerusalem.    What  we  do  is  but  the  product  of  what 


4 


we  are.  Sudden  moments  are  but  indices  of  the 
long,  quiet,  forceful  hours.  As  Helen  Hunt  Jackson 
has  forcibly  written: 

"Men  said  to-day,  of  one  who  sinned,  'What  may 
This  mean  ?  what  sudden  madness  overtook 
His  brain,  that  in  a  moment  he  forsook 
The  rectitude  which  iintil  yesterday 
Had  made  his  life  a  beacon  by  the  way 
To  common  men  ? '  " 
I  answered: 

"We  but  look  on  surfaces.    Temptation  never  shook 
One  soul  whose  secret  hidden  forces  lay 
Firm-centered  in, the  right.    The  glacier  bides 
For  ages  white  and  still,  and  seems  a  part 
Of  the  eternal  Alps.    But  at  its  heart. 
Each  hour,  some  atom  noiseless  jars,  and  slides. 
Until  the  avalanche  falls  with  thundering  weight. 
God  only  knows  the  beginning's  date!  " 

It  is  the  life-long  purpose,  the  soul's  bent,  that 
tells.  It  was  the  more  important  of  these  questions 
that  the  lawyer  of  long  ago  answered  when  he  didn't 
mean  to,  as  he  threw  open  that  window  into  his  soul; 
as  he  told,  in  that  question,  the  story  of  his  life.  Al- 
ways, as  to  any  book  the  pages  of  which  we  open,  the 
question,  What  is  written  in  that  book  ?  is  overshad- 
owed and  eclipsed  by  the  more  searching  question, 
"How  readest  thou?"  Whether  the  Bible  or  Robert 
Elsmere.  Whether  Pascal  or  Tom  Paine.  "Unto  the 
pure  all  things  are  pure."  If  we  read  through  green 
glasses,  every  sentiment  will  be  green.  We  can  read 
Shakespeare  for  instruction,  or  for  lasciviousness. 


5 


Byron  for  beauty  or  for  baseness.  Dickens  for  de- 
light or  for  despair.  "Not  that  which  goetli  in  at  the 
mouth"  said  the  Master,  "detileth  a  man,  but  that 
which  goeth  out."  So  we  may  say,  on  the  same  prin- 
ciple, not  that  which  goeth  in  at  the  eyes,  at  any  por- 
tal of  these  souls  of  ours,  at  any  of  these  windows 
into  our  spirits,  but  that  which  comes  out — this  tests 
character,  this  makes  the  man.  Not  what  we  read, 
but  how  we  read  it.  Psotwhatis  written,  but  what 
we  see.  It  is  important,  always,  to  have  correct  con- 
ceptions of  truth  outwardly,  to  know  accurately 
"what  is  written."  Not  to  be  mistaken  about  that. 
It  is  better  to  have  a  right  theology.  It  is  better  to 
be  orthodox,  though  some  charming  people  are  not. 
But  it  is  of  infinitely  more  importance  to  have  the 
truth  subjectively.  To  get  it  right  when  it  is  fused 
and  melted  into  these  hearts  of  ours,  and  become  a  part 
of  ourselves.  "The  Lord,"  says  the  psalmist,  "desir- 
eth  truth  in  the  inward  parts  and  in  the  hidden  part 
(he)  shall  make  (us)  to  know  wisdom."  Way  down 
inside  of  us,  truth  is  to  find  a  lodgement,  and  right  a 
resting  place.  This  is  of  incomparably  more  import- 
ance than  truth  on  the  outside.  As  the  goddess  of 
Liberty  was  borne  in  regal  state  through  the  streets  of 
Paris,  Madame  Roland  exclaimed  in  the  accents  that 
have  become  immortal:  "O  Liberty,  what  crimes  are 
committed  in  thy  name  !  "  We  may  employ  the  same 
apostrophe  to  truth,  truth  in  outward  statement,  truth 
in  metaphysical  analysis,  truth  in  catechism  and  creed, 
"What  is  written  in  the  law."    "O  truth!  what  crimes 


6 


have  been  committed  in  thy  name!"  Here  Rome  has 
reared  her  inquisition,  turned  her  thumb-screws, 
lighted  her  fagots,  sharpened  her  swords.  In  tliy 
name,  witches  have  been  burned  in  Rhode  Island. 
Slaves  driven  v^'ith  the  lash  in  the  cotton  fields  of  the 
South.  Thirty  thousand  votes  cast  into  the  air  in 
November  !  All  kinds  of  crime.  All  degrees  of  folly. 
In  the  name  of  truth.  Truth  must  get  inside  of  us, 
or  it  isn't  a  practical  force  in  human  affairs.  A  good 
man  will  get  more  out  of  the  Koran  than  a  bad  man 
out  of  the  Bible.  Some  of  the  best  people  in  the 
world  :irp  ad  voeates  of  the  most  pernicious  systems. 
In  tlieir  iiniale  goodness  they  have  extracted  all  that 
was  worth  anything  out  of  the  evil  and  the  pernicious 
and  the  wrong,  have  transformed  it  into  their  own 
sterling  integrity,  and  made  it  a  power  of  righteous- 
ness, a  i^illar  of  truth.  What  they  read  was  distorted 
and  awry,  but  the  w-ay  they  read  it  unravelled  the 
tangle,  took  out  the  twist,  and  set  them  straight  as  an 
arrow  in  the  practice  of  virtue,  in  obedience  to  right 
and  law.  Every  aim  in  life  hits  the  bull's  eye.  Their 
own  unsullied  natures,  their  own  untainted  hearts, 
turn  the  basest  metal  into  gold.  They  scatter  sun- 
shine in  darkest  recesses  of  error  and  mistake.  They 
pour  bright  beams  into  the  caverns  of  caricature,  into 
dens  of  deviltry  and  death.  But  a  bad  man,  into 
whose  inmost  texture  of  soul  truth  never  penetrates, 
no  matter  how  correctly  or  carefully  he  reads  it,  at 
the  portal  of  whose  inner  nature  right  and  law  never 
get  a  hearing,  he  is,  in  the  circumstances  of  the  case, 


7 


always  of  that  vast  throng;  whom  the  Saviour  analyzes 
in  a  word  when  He  gives  command,  "Neither  cast  ye 
your  pearls  before  swine."  Swine  can't  relish  pearls. 
They  are  not  made  that  way.  They  would  rather  have 
husks. 

As  to  external,  objective  truth,  as  to  theory 
in  the  abstract,  there  is  no  question  of  its  accuracy  or 
its  unerring  completeness.  "What  is  written  in  the 
law"  is  all  right.  Because  God  wrote  it.  Its  legiti- 
mate fruit  is  life.  "The  excellency  of  knowledge  is 
that  wisdom  giveth  life  to  them  that  have  it."  It  is 
able  to  make  all  men  "wise  unto  salvation  through 
faith  that  is  in  Christ  Jesus."  It  is  always  "profit- 
able for  doctrine,  for  reproof,  for  correction,  for  in- 
struction in  righteousness.  That  the  man  of  God 
may  be  perfect,  thoroughly  furnished  unto  good 
works."  Its  x^urpose  is  perfection.  Its  counterpart 
completeness.  But  the  way  we  read  it — there  comes 
the  rub.  We  get  it  into  all  kinds  of  shapes.  We 
distort  it  into  all  manner  of  ungainliness,  into  all  de- 
grees of  depravity  and  baseness.  Truth  is  a  forest  of 
large  and  lofty  trees,  each  tree  within  it  straight  as  a 
pine,  perfect  in  outline  as  a  balsam,  firm  as  lignum- 
vitcB.  But  we  hew  these  trees  into  all  manner  of  tim- 
ber; sometimes  to  build  fairest  structures  of  noblest 
deeds;  sometimes  to  lay  at  foundations  of  dens  of 
vice,  of  haunts  of  infamy.  Truth  is  a  quarry.  The 
native  granite  is  seamless  and  without  a  flaw.  A 
perfect  work  of  God.  But  with  our  drills  and  mal- 
lets and  picks  and  chisels,  we  manipulate  this  vast 


8 


treasury  of  solid  stone  to  totally  different  purposes. 
Sometimes  we  carve  a  column  for  costly  cathedral  and 
a  block  for  the  altar  of  God.  Sometimes  we  pave 
broad  roads  to  ruin,  boulevards  to  hell.  How  we  read 
it— that  decides  the  eternities — that  turns  the  hinge 
of  destiny,  that  fixes  all  the  future.  "Woman  or  tiger, 
which  ?  "  That  famous  question  suggested  an  alterna- 
tive as  calm  and  placid  as  a  midsummer  sky  compared 
with  this — Truth,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  it  < 
Life  or  death,  heaven  or  hell,  bliss  or  despair,  which  ? 

These  are  some  of  the  ways  we  read  truth  fatally 
and  falsely;  as  Peter  expresses  it,  "wrest  the  scrip- 
tures to  our  own  destruction.'"  While  we  read  it 
without  the  enlightenment  of  the  Spirit.  "The  natural 
man  receiveth  not  the  things  of  the  Spirit  of  God: 
for  they  are  foolishness  unto  him;  neither  can  he 
know  them,  because  they  are  spiritually  discerned." 
The  Spirit  of  God  must  help  us,  in  our  blindness,  or 
we  shall  never  see.  He  must  open  our  eyes,  or  they 
are  closed  for  all  the  eternities.  Until  He  becomes 
our  teacher  truth  is  a  strange  language,  and  the  Bible 
a  sealed  book.  We  read  awry  when  we  read  truth 
with  our  prejudices,  with  our  preconceived  notions 
and  preferences.  When  we  make  it  say  what  we 
want  it  to  say.  When  we  accommodate  it  to  our 
ideas  and  bend  it  to  our  theology.  Or  when  we  read 
it  critically,  and,  with  the  penknives  of  pet  theories, 
to  cut  out  what  we  don't  like,  and  exscind  what  we 
think  God  did  not  insjiire  because  we  don't  like  to 
think  so.    When  we  become  carvers  and  trimmers  of 


9 


tlie  word.  Still  more  fatally  we  read  what  is  in  the 
law  when  we  read  it  with  bad  and  wicked  hearts.  When 
we  look  into  it  with  what  inspiration  calls  ''an  evil 
eye."  "If  thine  eye  be  evil,"  says  the  Master,  "thy 
whole  body  shall  be  full  of  darkness."  The  truth 
gets  into  the  cellar,  and  we  can't  see  it,  because  it's 
dark. 

The  word  to  every  immortal  nature  is  that  word 
of  the  Master  to  the  lawyer  at  this  time,  when  he  has 
answered  so  accurately  the  first  question,  and  left  un- 
answered the  other:  "Thou  hast  answered  right: 
this  do,  and  thou  slialt  live."  What  faultless  theor- 
ists, what  grand  theologians,  that  whole  tribe  of 
Pharisees  and  Scribes  were,  of  whom  this  lawyer  was 
one!  You  couldn't  find  a  flaw  in  their  philosopy, 
nor  a  crack  in  their  creed.  But  they  were  a  miserable 
set.  All  the  severe  words  the  Saviour  had  to  say  fell 
like  thimderbolts  on  their  heads.  He  transfixed 
them  for  all  the  ages  with  this  barbed  spear:  "Ye 
generation  of  vipers,  how  can  ye  escape  the  damnation 
of  hell?"  In  inmost  spirit,  serpentine.  Made  for 
the  pit.  Because  they  read  that  law  so  perfect, 
and  constructed  that  theology  so  ethereal,  with  bad 
hearts  in  their  bosoms  and  baseness  in  their  souls. 
These  strainers  at  gnats  when  they  discussed  a  theo- 
logical point,  swallowed  camels  when  it  came  to  daily 
living,  Horrified  at  heresy,  they  could  cut  a  Samari- 
tan on  the  street,  and  cavil  and  quarrel  with  the 
Christ. 

"How  readest  thou  ? "    If  the  truth  shall  perform 


10 


her  perfect  work,    we   will  hold   a  conversation 
with  this  soul  within  us,  and  say,  Eead,  thou  soul, 
with  the  enlightenment  of  the  Spirit  Who  gave  the 
truth,  and  Who  alone  can  imbed  it  in  immortal  planting 
in  this  life  of  thine  for  immortal  fruitage.    Read  it 
without  thy  prejudices.    Not  attempting  to  put  in 
what  thou  pleasest,  but  to  be  pleased  with  what  is 
there  for  the  finding.    Take  the  whole  truth  without 
abridgement  or  supplement.    Just  what  the  Lord  has 
said.    No  more  and  no  less.    And  read  it  with  an  eye 
single,  with  a  heart  clean  and  pure.    Doing  "the  will 
of  thy  Father   Who  is  in  heaven"  and  then  thou 
shall  "know  of  the  doctrine."    A  Christ  life  is  the 
clearest  lens  with  which  to  look  into  the  mighty 
depths  of  truth,  and  penetrate  its  far-off  recesses. 
The  clearest-eyed  Reader  truth  ever  had  was  He 
Whose  "meat  and  drink  (was)  to  do  the  will  of  Him 
that  sent  Him."    He  had  an  eagle  eye  to  look  right 
into  the  sun  of  truth,  because  He  had  within  Him  a 
pure  heart  and  a  consecrated  soul.    When  His  life 
flows  into  us,  when  we  see  as  He  saw,  because  we  feel 
as  He  felt,  and  love  as  He  loved,  we  won't  make  any 
mistakes.    Then  we  shall  not  look  with  our  prejudices 
or  our  imperfections,  but  with  our    hearts.  And 
hearts,  when  rightly  keyed,  hearts,  when  the  heav- 
enly harmonies  play  upon  their  strings,  never  make 
mistakes,  never  see  awry,  never  read  wrong. 


I  Cor.  XII :  31.    Yet  sliew  I  vnto  you  a  more  excel- 
lent way. 

HE  burninof  question  of  the  hour  is  the  question  of 
wise  temperance  reform.  The  crying  evil  of  our 
times  is  the  saloon.  The  immediate,  the  vital  peril 
of  our  institutions  is  the  thirst  for  strong  drink.  How 
to  effect  this  wise  reform;  how  to  close  the  saloon;  how 
to  repress  this  destroying  passion;  this  is  the  issue  of 
the  day:  it  is  the  all  important  question  on  which 
public  morals  and  public  security  alike  are  hinged.  I 
would  like  to  consider  with  you  this  question  in  all 
earnestness  and  in  all  solemnity  at  this  time. 

We  stand  then,  in  our  thought  this  hour,  m  the  im- 
mediate presence  of  the  crowning  ])eril  of  our  land, 
and  of  the  age  in  which  we  live.  We  look  and  we 
see  the  young,  the  middle-aged  and  the  old  alike  fall- 
ing on  the  right  hand  and  on  the  left,  victims  of  the 
great  destroyer.  The  records  of  our  Courts  of  Jus- 
tice, the  ruin  of  brightest  hopes  and  fairest  prospects, 
the  degradation  of  manhood,  the  dishonor  and  shame 
of  womanhood,  homes  made  desolate  and  hearths 
made  bare — we  bring  all  these  to  day  and  we  lay  them 
at  the  door  of  this  mother  of  iniquity,  this  parent  of 
crime.  We  stand  at  the  gate  of  the  prison  wall.  AVe 
hear  its  story  of  vice  and  crime;  we  look  on  the  faces 


2 


of  its  inmates,  marked  and  wrinkled  with  their  shame, 
and  we  ask,  What  brought  them  here  1  We  knock  at 
the  door  of  our  asylums,  and  we  ask,  What  caused 
these  scenes  of  suffering,  what  ruthless  robber  stole 
away  the  brain,  and  made  reason  mad  ?  We  see  alon^ 
the  city's  streets  the  thousands  who  are  homeless  and 
houseless,  begging  the  crust  of  bread;  the  infant  of 
days,  whose  only  utterance  this  side  the  eternities  is 
the  wail  of  want,  the  cry  of  desolation;  the  old  man, 
tottering,  helpless,  imbecile;  and  we  ask,  Why  this 
destitution,  why  this  revolting  scene  of  beggary  and 
need  ?  And  from  all  alike  there  comes  one  answer;  to 
each  mystery  that  confronts  us  we  find  one  common 
key.  The  appetite  for  strong  drink  has  impelled  the 
hand  of  crime,  and  filled  our  prisons  and  xjeniten- 
tiaries;  has  mastered  noble  intellects  and  crowded  our 
asylums;  has  consumed  the  rewards  of  honest  labor, 
and  thronged  our  streets  with  beggary,  and  brought 
to  our  doors  an  army  of  tramps.  Standing  be- 
fore these  scenes,  we  say  with  Shakespeare's  Cassio: 
*'  O  thou  invisible  spirit  of  wine,  if  thou  hast  no  name 
to  be  known  by,  let  us  call  thee  devil." 

Confronted  by  this  alarming  presence  we  are  to 
consider  the  all  important  question:  How  shall  we 
meet  the  enemy,  panoplied  and  armored  for  his  over- 
throw ?  Shall  we  do  it  with  divided  counsels,  with 
battalions  fighting  among  ourselves,  or  shall  we  meet 
him  with  solid  phalanx,  one  undivided  resistless 
host  ?    As  the  enemy  meets  us  every  time. 


3 


"The  children  of  this  world,"  said  the  Master, 
"are  wiser  in  their  generation  than  the  children  of 
light."  In  our  recent  history  in  this  commonwealth, 
this  populous,  Empire  State,  that  declaration  of  the 
Master  has  been  indisputably  and  alarmingly  proved. 
We  have  twice  joined  issue  with  the  enemy  on  this 
question.  And,  on  both  these  bloodless  fields,  they 
have  shown  themselves  the  wiser.  They  have  been 
the  wiser  and  the  shrewder  by  far  in  this  that  they 
met  us  in  each  campaign  an  unbroken  column,  while  we 
stood  before  them  a  divided  cohort,  prohibitionists  in 
one  line,  high  license  men  in  the  other,  and  they 
drove  us  to  the  wall.  The  two  decisive  conflicts  of 
our  recent  history  were  waged,  in  one  canvass  by  the 
one  political  party,  in  the  other  by  the  other,  so  that 
I  shall  be  acquitted  of  all  partisanship  in  my  analysis 
of  the  heated  and  the  fatal  encounter. 

In  1883  the  Democratic  party  nominated  at  the  head 
of  its  ticket  Mr.  Maynard,  as  candidate  for  Secretary  of 
State.  He  was  an  acknowledged  and  an  avowed  temper- 
ance man.  The  issue  was  joined  on  that  question.  The 
Brewers  and  Maltsters  sent  forth  their  printed  circu- 
lars throughout  the  State,  advocating  the  defeat  of 
Mr.  Maynard  on  this  ground.  The  Distillers  put 
forth  their  efforts,  and  exerted  their  influence,  in  the 
same  direction.  The  saloons  were  a  unit  against 
him.  What  was  the  result  of  the  canvass?  You 
will  all  remember  that  the  entire  state  ticket  of  the 
Democracy  was  that  year  elected  by  a  considerable 
plurality,  with  the  exception  of  Mr.  Maynard,  who 


4 


was  honorably  and  manfully  defeated.  Meeting  what 
Mr.  Depew  has  so  appropriately  termed  "a  victorious 
defeat."  He  remained  true  to  his  colors,  he  stood  by 
his  record,  and  the  rum  ijower  of  the  state  smote  him 
and  laid  him  low. 

This  year  the  issue  was  joined  again,  and, 
the  political  parties  being  reversed,  the  result 
of  the  conflict  of  opposing  forces  was  the  same. 
David  B.  Hill,  whatever  his  personal  predilec- 
tions, whatever  his  political  affiliations,  for  of 
these  I  have  nothing  here  to  say,  was  supported 
by  the  liquor  interests  of  the  State,  and  was  the  can- 
didate of  the  saloons, — as  one  of  his  most  ardent  sup- 
porters expressed  it,  in  the  issue  between  the  churches 
and  the  saloons.  Mr.  Warner  Miller  accepted  that 
issue,  and  manfully  and  heroically  asked  the  support 
of  the  churches,  and  bade  defiance  to  the  saloons.  In 
fifty  counties  of  this  State,  with  matchless  moral  cour- 
age, he  presented  unfalteringly  and  distinctly  that  is- 
sue. In  the  pure  atmosphere  of  our  rural  towns,  and  in 
the  slums  of  our  great  cities,  in  all  alike  he  grappled 
with  the  enemy,  and  courted  defeat,  if  defeat  it 
should  be,  at  the  hands  of  the  rum  power.  And  he 
was  defeated.  President-elect  Harrison  carries  the 
State  by  14,335  plurality:  Mr.  Miller  loses  it  by  19,133; 
he  is  behind  his  ticket  33,468  votes,  Tne  vote  in  the 
State  for  Mr.  Jones,  the  Prohibition  candidate,  was  30,- 
213,  which  vote  cast  for  Mr.  Miller  would  have  elected 
him  by  a  plurality  of  11,080.  On  this  most  unfortunate 
result  of  the  canvass  I  base  my  appeal  and  my  prom- 


5 


ise  to  the  Prohibitionists  to  night.  A  vote  cast  into 
the  air  would  have  defeated  the  candidate  of  the 
liquor  interests  of  the  State,  and  woukl  have  retired 
to  private  life  the  pet  of  the  saloons. 

Can  we  afford,  in  the  presence  of  a  foe  so  cemented 
in  closest  union,  so  joined  in  solid  phalanx,  can  we 
afford  longer  to  meet  him  with  divided  counsels  and 
separate  battalions,  and  be  driven  every  time  he  at- 
tacks us  to  the  four  winds?  Wlien  we  remember  what 
the  success  of  the  rum  power  imports,  the  story  of 
ruin  and  death  it  entails,  the  fatal  blow  it  strikes  at 
public  virtue  and  private  morals,  dare  we  commit  this 
folly  in  the  coming  years  that  has  been  our  defeat 
and  our  overthrow  in  th«  years  that  are  passed  ?  Is 
there  not  an  immorality  involved  if  we  permit  the 
children  of  this  world  to  continue  wiser  than  the  chil- 
dren of  light,  when  they  have  shown  us  so  clearly 
what  true  wisdom  is  ?  When  they  have  proved  such 
competent  and  such  forcible  instructors  ?  Will  it  not 
sink  to  the  degree  of  positive  vice  to  remain  divided 
where  division  means,  every  time,  more  saloons  and 
freer  rum  ? 

If  division  is  sin,  then  how  shall  we  be  united  C 
Shall  the  mountain  come  to  Mahomet,  or  shall  Ma- 
homet come  to  the  mountain?  Shall  6r)0,0()() — and  I 
think  I  may  add  to  this  number  ir)0,()()()  who  voted 
for  Mr.  Hill,  because  he  had  received  the  regular 
noniinatioTi  of  his  party,  but  who,  if  party  interests 
and  political  considerations  were  laid  aside,  would 


6 


cordially  support  high  license,  and  would  cast  their 
vote  as  heartily  and  as  enthusiastically  as  we  for  the 
churches  as  against  the  saloons, — shall  800,000  of  the 
voters  of  the  State  of  New  York  come  to  one  twenty- 
sixth  their  number,  or  shall  30,000  come  to 
twenty-six  times  their  multiple  ?  Which  is  common 
sense?  Which  is  ordinary,  unimpassioned,  cool- 
blooded  reason  !  The  position  of  the  twelfth  juror  is 
proverbial,  who  is  insufferably  annoyed  by  eleven  ob- 
stinate men.  This  is  a  case  of  the  twenty-sixth  juror, 
who  expects  twenty-five  to  step  over  gracefully,  and 
without  longer  obstinacy,  to  his  side. 

Inasmuch  as  the  resources  at  the  command  of  the 
common  enemy  are  so  vast;  because  there  is  so  much 
money  and  such  willingness  to  use  it  in  open  bribery 
and  the  direct  purchase  of  votes,  to  the  destruction 
of  the  best  interests  of  our  commonwealth,  to  the 
peril  of  our  homes,  to  the  ruin  of  many  of  the  brightest 
and  most  promising  of  our  young  men,  may  I  not  utter 
an  appeal  for  unity  of  action  to-night,  for  harmony 
of  counsel,  that  will  be  heeded  and  that  will  be  heard  ? 
Shall  we  not  stand  side  by  side,  Prohibitionists  and 
High  License  men,  in  this  alarming,  this  fearful,  this 
fateful  encounter?  My  prohibitionist  friend  replies, 
as  nearly  as  I  understand  his  jjosition,  hitherto  refus- 
ing to  unite  with  us  of  the  high  license  advocacy, 
securing  thereby  our  defeat  in  the  last  canvass,  ex- 
pecting some  day  the  mountain  to  come  to  Mahomet, 
the  800,000  to  the  30,000,  in  a  twofold  answer.  First, 
he  tells  us  that  High  License  does  not  restrict.  Now  I 


7 


will  not  go  into  the  stati-slics  of  this  subject  to-day. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that  liaving  studied  these  statistics 
with  some  care,  I  am  willing  to  stake  my  accuracy  of 
information  on  the  statement  that  a  system  of  high 
license,  wherever  it  is  faitlifully  enforced,  reduces  the 
sale  and  the  consumption  of  intoxicating  liquors,  in 
comparison  with  laws  of  prohibition,  as  four  to  one. 
The  comparative  efficiency  of  the  two  systems,  I  be- 
lieve, as  a  matter  of  statistics,  to  be  in  this  ratio. 

But  I  meet  this  objection  of  my  prohibitionist 
opponent,  whom  I  want  for  my  co-\yorker,  on  a  still 
more  unanswerable  ground.  As  I  said  to  a  personal 
friend  on  election  day,  I  bi-lieve  the  wisest  thing  to  do 
in  the  presence  of  an  enemy  is  to  find  what  he  wants 
you  to  do,  and  then  do  just  as  nearly  as  you  possibly 
can  the  opposite  thing.  If  High  License  laws  do  not 
restrict  and  restrain,  and  in  a  measure  prevent  and 
prohibit,  why  stands  the  entire  liquor  interest  of  the 
State  in  serried  column,  and  with  aimed  guns,  when  a 
mt^asure  of  this  character  is  proposed  ?  Why  does  a 
movement  in  this  direction  set  brewers  and  maltsters 
and  distillers  crazy,  and  enlist  the  bitter  hostility  of 
every  saloon  from  Montank  Foint  to  the  shores  of 
Lake  Erie  ?  When  a  bill  embodying  the  system  of 
high  license  has  passed  the  Legislature,and  lies  before 
the  Governor  in  the  Executive  Chamber,  why  is  he 
besieged  by  the  allied  forces  of  "lager  and  rum,  and 
finds  no  sleep  for  his  eyes  nor  slumber  for  his  eyelids, 
until  he  writes  a  veto  such  that  he  never  deserves  to 
sleep  well  again  ?    And  when  the  issue  is  joined,  as  in 


8 


November,  in  a  State  campaign,  why  are  maltsters 
and  brewers  and  distillers,  saloons  and  their  money, 
all  on  one  side  ?  There  must  be  something  alarming, 
something  portentuous  in  this  high  license  system, 
and,  as  was  said  of  a  certain  statesman,  I  say  of  this 
system  of  High  License,  "I  love  it  for  the  enemies  it 
has  made."  Our  great  enemy, the  Rum  Power  of  this 
State,  mighty,  strongly  armored,  ready  for  battle,  our 
enemy  seeks  the  defeat,  is  willing  to  spend  any 
amount  of  money  to  compass  the  defeat,  of  laws  of 
this  character.  As  a  wise,  as  a  -judicious,  as  a  safe 
principle  of  war,  I  repeat.  Find  out  what  the  enemy 
wants,  and  then  do  just  the  other  thing.  Don't  go 
over  to  him,  body  and  soul,  and  do  just  what  he  wants 
you  to  do. 

Tlie  second  objection  to  unity  of  counsels  and  to 
harmony  of  action  on  the  part  of  our  prohibition 
friends  is  more  serious  in  its  character,  and  demands 
most  thoui^htful  and  careful  consideration.  It  is  the 
moral  objection,  and  it  is  urged  in  all  sincerity  and 
candor,  I  will  not  doubt,  by  many  most  worthy  and 
excellent  people.  Because  of  this  moral  objection 
that  has  seemed  to  stand  in  rheir  path  as  an  insur- 
mountable barrier  to  all  unity  of  action,  those  who 
entertain  the  objection  have  allowed  the  conflict  with 
the  enemy,  again  and  again,  to  go  by  default.  If  the 
objection  applies,  if  it  is  well  and  rightly  grounded, 
then  their  action  is  justifiable,  and  their  wuthholding 
of  needed  aid  in  this  great  battle  with  intemperance 
and  lawlessness  is  the  only  manly  and  honorable 


9 


course.  If  we  of  the  High  License  platform  are  con- 
d acting  this  warfare  on  immoral  grounds,  if  our 
method  of  restriction  is  in  its  nature  sin,  then  no  con- 
scientious, high  minded  Christian  man  can  go  with  us 
in  our  warfare,  however  much  we  may  need  his  help, 
or  however  fatal  his  withdi'awal  may  seem  to  us  to 
be.  The  objection  that  is  thus  urged  so  strenuously 
and  so  conscientiously  is  that  a  License  law  is  an  en- 
actment on  the  statute  books  for  the  express  purpose 
of  permitting  an  evil.  It  is  a  law,  our  prohibitionist 
friend  argues,  that  permits,  and  puts  the  authority  of 
the  court  as  a  bulwark  of  defense  around,  a  positive 
and  unqualified  social  and  moral  wrong.  Good  may 
"come  out  of  Nazareth,"  but  it  can't  come  out  of  a 
grog  shop.  I  will  put  this  objection,  on  moral 
grounds,  so  far  as  I  may  be  able,  in  all  its  force,  for  if 
it  applied  in  this  case,  as  I  shall  endeavor  to  show 
that  it  does  not,  I  should  act  upon  it  most  resolutely, 
and  should  be  found,  with  all  my  heart,  in  the  prohi- 
bition ranks.  The  underlying  principle  of  the  Gospel 
of  Christ,  indeed  of  any  system  of  morals,  is  that  we 
are  to  make  no  compromise  with  evil,  no  alliance  with 
wrong.  "  What  fellowship,"  asks  the  apostle,  ''hath 
righteousness  with  unrighteousness?  and  what  com- 
munion hath  light  with  darkness?"  They  are  antag- 
onistic the  one  to  the  other.  Between  them  there  is 
no  common  ground  of  agreement.  They  wage,  the 
one  against  the  other,  a  war  of  extermination.  One 
or  the  other  is  to  be  wiped  out.  Evil  is  Delilah. 
We  are  not  to  consent  to  her  embraces.  The  Philis- 
tines are  too  near  with  their  shears. 


10 


How,  we  are  asked,  shall  we  reconcile  this  require- 
ment of  the  purest  morals  with  the  advocacy  and 
support  of  a  license  law  that  winks  at  iniquity,  and 
says,  Pay  me  a  license  fee,  and  then  sin  ?  A  law  that 
says.  Comply  with  certain  legal  stipulations,  and  then 
become  a  tempter  and  a  seducer  and  a  destroyer  of 
your  fellow  men  ?  Oil  the  hinge  with  legality,  and 
then  throw  open  the  door  that  leads  to  the  gates  of 
death  ?  Cover  the  steps  with  the  brussels  of  compli- 
ance with  law,  and  then  let  them  be  the  steps  that  lay 
hold  on  hell !  Now  this  is  high  and  worthy  ground. 
The  ground  on  which  of  all  other  I  would  desire  to 
stand  if  the  argument  applies  in  this  urgent  and  press- 
ing case.  At  the  same  time  I  hope  to  impart  to  you 
my  own  confident  and  unwavering  conviction  that 
there  is  no  connection  whatever  between  this  objection 
and  the  high  license  system  to  which  we  ask  your 
support. 


/  Cor.  X7//31.      Yet  shew  I  unto  you  a  mere  excel- 
lent way . 

HE  whole  process  of  thought,  in  the  objection 
urged  by  our  prohibition  friends,  has  arisen  from 
the  utter  misnomer — a  license  law.  Clinging  to 
that  word  license,  the  conclusion  has  been  erroneously 
and  unjustly  drawn  that  laws  of  this  character  have 
been  enacted  to  let  people  sell  liquor,  and  are  therefore 
sin.  If  we  could  apply  the  true  . title  to  these  laws,  and 
term  them,  as  they  are,  a  heavy  restrictive  tax  on  the 
sale  of  liquors,  instead  of  a  permission  to  sell,  I  think 
much  serious  questioning  in  the  minds  of  upright, 
honest  people  would  have  been  avoided,  and  unity 
and  harmony  of  action  on  this  great  question  would 
have  been  long  ere  this  secured.  A  high  license  law 
does  not  confer  the  right  to  sell  intoxicating  liquors. 
The  right  to  sell  liquor,  as  the  right  to  sell  dry  goods, 
exists  under  the  common  law.  If  there  is  no  law 
passed  upon  that  subject  the  right  is  unquestioned.  It 
exists  prior  to  any  particular  statute.  A  high  license 
law  says,  If  you  exercise  this  right  to  sell  liquor, 
which  is  yours  under  the  common  law,  we  will  jiut 
just  as  heavy  a  penalty  upon  you  for  its  exercise  as 
public  sentiment  will  permit,  $5,000  or  $10,000  if  the 
people  will  ratify  our  action.  This  right  could  be  at 
once  destroyed  by  the  passage  of  a  prohibitory  law. 


22 


If  public  sentiment  would  enforce  and  sustain  that 
measure,  the  right  would  no  longer  exist.  But  until 
public  sentiment  will  do  that,  we  will  do  the  next 
best  thing,  and  will  make  it  just  as  expensive  and 
just  as  burdensome  to  tlie  liquor  dealer  and  the  liquor 
manufacturer  as  we  possibly  can, until,  by  the  severity 
of  our  oppression  and  the  weight  of  our  tax,  we  drive 
them  out  of  the  business. 

A  high  license  law  exercises  the  same  func- 
tion in  our  jurisprudence  as  whipping  in  school. 
We  can't  prohibit  troublesome  children  from 
coming  to  school.  So  we  whip  them  if  they  are 
bad.  You  wouldn't  say  that  whipping  is  a  com- 
promise with  turbulence  and  disorder.  You  wouldn't 
say  that  because  we  don't  abolish  troublesome 
children  we  are  making  "an  agreement  with  deathand 
a  covenant  with  hell."  These  troublesome  children  in 
society,  brewers  and  maltsters  and  distillers,  and  retail 
dealers — these  we  can't  abolish  and  so  we  whip  them 
with  just  as  heavy  taxes  on  their  iniquity  as  we  can. 
You  do  not  think  that  is  a  compromise  with  evil,  or 
an  alliance  with  wrong,  do  you  ?   No,  neither  do  I. 

Let  me  illustrate  the  subject  and  show  the  utter  emp- 
tiness of  this  objection  in  the  light  of  another  inti- 
mate analogy.  During  ttie  war,  we  had  an  extensive 
system  of  license  laws,  as  an  additional  source  of  rev- 
enue to  meet  the  exacting  expenditures  incurred  by 
a  causeless  and  wicked  rebellion.  A  license  law  for 
the  sale  of  intoxicating  liquors  to-day  stands  in  the 
same  relation  as  a  license  law  for  the  sale  of  candy 


23 


during  the  war.  That  law  did  not  confer  the  right  to 
sell  candy.  That  right  existed  before  the  law  was 
passed.  A  prohibitory  law  conld  have  been  jjassed  at 
any  time  to  destroy  tliat  right  to  sell  candy,  and  to 
prevent  its  exercise,  if  public  sentiment  would  sus- 
tain it.  The  license  law  simply  said,  If  you  exercise 
this  right  to  sell  candy,  which  is  yours  under  the 
common  law,  and  which  we  do  not  propose  to  prohibit, 
we  will  require  of  you  the  payment  of  this  tax  for 
the  support  of  the  government.  In  strict  analogy 
our  high-license  law  says,  If  you  exercise  this  right  to 
sell  liquor  that  is  yours  under  the  common  law,  a 
right  we  would  destroy  at  once  and  utterly  if  we 
could,  and  a  power  we  would  prohibit  did  public  sen- 
timent permit,  if  you  exercise  this  right,  we  will  put 
upon  yoa  this  penalty;  we  will  assess  this  tax  for  the 
support  of  the  almshouses  and  the  penitentiaries  and 
the  state  prisons  that  you.  by  your  base  and  wicked 
commerce,  make  a  necessity.  Did  those  license  laws 
during  the  Rebellion  create  the  right  to  sell  candy  ? 
Did  they  confer  the  privilege  of  (he  skillful  manipu- 
lation of  sugar,  and  the  speedy  destruction  of  teeth  ? 
You  seethe  emptiness  of  the  objection;  you  see  its 
utter  inapplicability.  If  I  am  doing  all  I  can  to  re- 
strain and  hinder  a  man  of  thievish  propensities, 
surely  I  am  not  striking  a  bargain  with  larceny  and 
theft.  If  I  am  holding  the  i-eins  as  tightly  as  I  can,  I 
am  not  making  a  compromise  with  a  runaway  team. 
Thieves  might  be  blown  up  with  dynamite.  But  they 
are  not.    And  while  they  are  around,  we  will  restrain 


24 


them  just  as  rigidly  as  we  may  be  able  by  penalties 
and  prisons.  Runaway  horses  might  be  annihilated 
by  some  mystic  power  when  they  began  to  run.  But 
they  are  not.  And  so  we  will  hold  the  reins  just  as 
tight  as  we  can,  and,  with  as  rigid  taxation  as  possible, 
command:  Whoa.  Had  we  the  power  of  prohibition, 
would  public  sentiment  sustain  and  enforce  it,  prohi- 
bition, it  seems  to  me,  would  be  the  only  path  for  our 
feet.  A  restrictive  tax  law  would  then  be  an  ignomin- 
ious and  a  shameful  retreat.  It  would  be  a  penalty 
where  we  could  say,  No.  In  the  present  state  of 
society,  and  condition  of  public  sentiment,  we  can't 
say.  No,  so  we  will  say,  in  the  spirit  of  stringent 
license,  Just  as  little  of  this  as  possible. 

Prohibitory  laws  may  be  passed  and  may  be 
enrolled  on  our  statute  books  from  Maine  to  Cali- 
fornia. They  may  be  appendixed  with  penalties, 
and  may  bristle  all  over  with  fines  and  imprisonment, 
but  they  are  so  much  waste  paper  and  spoiled  ink, 
where  society  does  not  believe  that  what  you  would 
prohibit  is  positively,  and  inherently,  and  irreversibly 
wrong.  The  zealous  republican  might  pass  a  prohib- 
itory law  that  nobody  in  this  land  of  ours  should 
vote  the  democratic  ticket,  but  so  long  as  a  large  and 
influential  portion  of  our  citizens  believed  tnat  that  was 
a  right  and  a  virtuous  thing  to  do,  the  democratic 
ticket  would  be  voted,  and  our  prohibitory  law  would 
be  a  dead  letter.  The  anti-tobacco  enthusiast  may  cry 
eagerly  for  enactments  involving  absolute  and  final 
prohibition,  but,  until  you  convince  them  it  is  wrong, 


25 


men  will  roll  the  sweet — I  mean  the  bitter — morsel 
under  their  tongues,  and  the  curling  smoke  will  rise 
in  calm  defiance  of  all  your  laws. 

Anti-masons,  in  their  zeal  that  runs  away  with  their 
discretion,  may  fill  pages  of  foolscap  with  resolutions, 
they  may,  by  some  shrewd  enginery,  transcribe  their 
denunciations  in  the  statute  books,  and  outlaw  the 
enemy  ;  but,  despite  their  enactments,  masonry  will 
still  pursue  the  even  tenor  of  its  way,  so  long  as  soci- 
ety does  not  believe  it  is  sin  to  have  secrets  and  keep 
them,  or  to  find  harmless  amusement  with,  level  and 
1)1  umb  and  square. 

On  the  other  hand,  we  can  easily  enact  prohibitory 
laws  and  enforce  them,  when  that  which  they  prohibit 
is  universally  recognized  as  sin.  We  do  not  need  a  li- 
cense law  for  larceny,  that  shall  say,  You  may  steal  if 
you  do  it  gracefully  and  with  taste.  We  can  prohibit 
stealing,  positively  and  unqualifiedly,  because  society 
has  but  one  opinion  about  thieves.  We  need  no  li- 
cense law  for  the  incendiarist,  that  shall  say.  We  will 
permit  you  to  burn  our  houses  in  broad  daylight, 
when  we  are  all  out,  and  the  insurance  policy  is  double 
the  value  of  the  house  ;  or  for  the  forger,  that  shall 
say.  We  will  let  you  continue  this  chirography  of 
yours,  if  you  will  write  a  graceful  hand  ;  or  for  the 
murderer,  that  shall  say,  Vou  may  murder,  if  you  will 
confine  yourself  to  that  large  number,  whom  society 
can  get  along  better  without.  We  can  bring  all  these 
at  once  within  the  sphere  of  prohibition.  Here  we 
can  enact  prohibitory  laws  and  enforce  them.  We  can 


26 


do  so,  because  society  says,  with  one  voice,  It  is  wicked 
to  burn,  and  forge,  and  kill,  and  to  this  wickedness 
law  must  put  a  stop.  But  public  opinion  is  not  a  unit 
to-day  on  the  question  of  the  liquor  traffic.  It  does 
not  put  it  side  by  side  with  thefr,  and  house  burning, 
and  forgery,  and  murder  and  say.  It  must  endure  with 
these  the  penalties  of  the  law.  We  may  think  public 
opinion  ought  to  do  this.  But  it  don't.  We  have  not 
lived  very  long,  or  we  haven't  spent  the  time  very 
profitably  if  we  have,  if  we  are  unaware  that  between 
what  ought  to  be  and  what  is  there  is  often  a  vast  and 
wide  divergence.  Men  ought  to  be  wiser  than  they 
are,  and  society  ought  to  be  better.  But  as  the  tact  of 
the  case,  they  are  not.  By  the  grace  of  God — and  by 
the  perversity  of  our  natures — we  are  what  we  are. 
And  we  must  legislate  on  that  basis.  It  is  love's 
labor  lost  to  print  statute  books  for  hypothetical 
cases,  or  to  multiply  enactments  for  a  condition  of  so- 
ciety up  in  the  moon,  where  all  may  be  supposed  to 
have  right  ideas  and  correct  opinions  and  lovely  na- 
tures and  pure  hearts,  so  long  as  here  on  the  earth 
ideas  are  distorted,  and  opinions  awry,  and  natures 
crooked,  and  hearts  perverse.  We  must  legislate  for 
society  as  it  is,  hoping  to  make  it  better  by  and  by  ; 
and  for  men  as  they  are,  devoutly  hopeful  still  that 
they  may  grow  wiser  in  some  better  day. 

I  appeal  therefore,  again,  to  every  honest  prohibi- 
tionist to  give  the  weight  of  his  influence  to  these  re- 
strictive measures,  that  shall  limit  and  restrain  the 
sale  of  intoxicating  liquors  ;  and  I  add  to  my  appeal 


27 


the  promise  that  every  possible  measure  of  prohibi- 
tion shall  receive  our  hearty  and  cordial  and  unwav- 
ering support,  vi^hoare  now  laboring  and  voting  for  the 
passage  of  these  laws,  and  who  will  be  only  glad  to 
secure  absolute  prohibition  at  the  earliest  possibility. 
Under  our  system  of  Local  Option,  we  will  vote  with 
you,  everytime,  for  the  Excise  Commissioner  who  will 
grant  no  license  in  the  locality  in  which  we  live.  So 
securing,  by  our  united  effort,  local  prohibition.  Un- 
der our  Civil  Damage  statute,  we  will  join  our  forces 
heartily  to  inflict  the  full  penalty  of  the  law  for  the 
injuries  that  are  done  by  this  traffic,  whenever  by  overt 
act  we  may  be  able  to  trace  them. 

We  will  stand  with  you  firmly  and  resolutely  in 
the  practice  of  total  abstinence,  that  our  example  with 
yours  may  enlighten  and  uplift  public  sentiment,  until, 
with  one  voice,  it  shall  say  in  mandatory  utterance,  in 
puissant  command,  This  base  traffic  shall  now  cease, 
this  iniquitous  trade  we  will  prohibit  throughout  the 
length  and  breadth  of  this  broad  land,  while  from  this 
tyrant  passion,  this  master  spirit  of  evil,  we  shall  pro- 
claim liberty  to  all  the  inhabitants  thereof. 

And  then  we  add  this  agi-eement,  in  solemn  prom- 
ise also,  that,  apart  from  all  party  lines,  as  good  citi- 
zens and  solicitous  for  the  welfare  of  the  republic,  we 
will,  to  the  utmost  of  our  power,  labor  to  secure  the 
passage  of  a  Constitutional  Amendment,  State  and 
National,  forever  prohibiting  the  manufacture  and 
sale  of  intoxicating  liquors  as  a  beverage. 


28 


Permit  ine  to  urge  once  more  with  renewed  em- 
phasis the  necessity  of  united,  counsels  and  concordant 
action,  for  the  sake  of  which  I  make  my  appeal  and 
give  my  promise,  as  I  recall  the  fate  of  our  last  at- 
tempt in  the  legislature  to  secure  the  submission  to 
the  people  of  a  Constitutional  Amendment  of  this 
character. 

The  bill  was  defeated  by  some  six  or  eight  votes 
in  our  Assembly.  In  more  than  as  many  districts  of 
the  State,  the  legislator  who  voted  against  the  measure 
was  elected  because  the  prohibition  vote  in  his  dis- 
trict was  cast  for  a  third  candidate,  which  vote,  had 
it  been  cast  for  the  candidate  in  favor  of  the  amend- 
ment, would  have  elected  him  and  secured  the  passage 
of  the  bill.  That  is  the  reason  we  have  not  had  the 
opportunity  to  vote  on  a  Constitutidnal  Amendment, 
prohibiting  the  manufacture  and  sale  of  intoxicating 
liquors  in  the  State  of  New  York.  Let  us  be  admon- 
ished of  the  absolute  necessity,  the  imperative  need, 
of  the  hour .  The  Enemy  stand  over  against  us  welded 
as  one  man,  in  one  mighty  phalanx.  Let  us  stand  to- 
gether shoulder  to  shoulder,  heart  to  heart,  against 
him,  and  so  go  forth  bravely  and  fearlessly  to  the 
fray,  strong  in  each  other,  and  strong  in  the  God  of 
battles. 


John  YI :  12.    Gather  up  the  fragmenti 


HE  miracle  of  the  loaves  and  fishes  was,  in  many 
respects,  the  most  impressive  and  remarkable  of 
all  the  works  of  majesty  and  power  our  Saviour 
performed.  It  was  repeated,  as  you  remember,  on  a 
second  occasion,  in  precisely  a  similar  manner.  And 
that  wonder  Worker  did  not  often  repeat  himself. 

As  an  evidence  of  the  impression  produced,  we 
read  of  those  who  became  His  disciples,  "  because 
they  had  eaten  of  the  loaves,  and  been  filled." 

They  were  a  lazy,  indolent  class  of  people,  who 
had  come  to  the  conclusion  that,  if  they  followed  the 
Nazarene,  they  would  no  longer  be  compelled  to  work 
for  a  living,  but  that,  whenever  they  were  hungry, 
Jesus  would  assume  the  capacity  of  bread-maker, 
without  grain  or  yeast,  and  feed  them.  They  were  not, 
however,  encouraged  to  continue  on  that  basis.  Mir- 
acles were  not  for  the  lazy,  nor  displays  of  power  for 
the  listless  and  inert. 

The  Saviour,  when  recalling  the  miracle,  directs 
especial  attention  to  the  '•'fragments  which  remained." 
"How  many  baskets  full- of  fragments  took  ye  up  ^" 
He  seems  to  urge  this,  as  the  decisive  test  of  the  mira- 
cle. It  was  not  a  deception.  It  was  not  a  trick  of  leg- 
erdemain. The  multitude  sitting  there  were  not  mag- 
netized to  think  that  they  had  eaten.    Ther«  had  been 


30 


an  actual  meal  and  a  hearty  one.  For  there  lay  the 
fragments,  twelve  baskets  of  them. 

And  there  are  other  lessons,  also,  connected  with 
this  feature  of  the  miracle,  upon  which  the  Master, 
with  so  much  emphasis,  insists.  Let  us  attend  to  some 
of  them  to-day. 

I.  Observe,  tirst  of  all,  the  reason  the  Master  gave 
for  this  command,  "Gather  up  the  fragments."  If 
that  Master  could  supply  bread  by  the  loaf,  and  fishes 
by  the  thousand,  so  easily,  why  should  He  care  about 
the  ineces,  left  lying  on  the  ground  ?  The  multitude 
didn't  care  anything  about  them.  They  had  thrown 
them  away.  The  disciples  didn't  think  of  them.  Yet 
the  Master  said.  Gather  them  up  !  And  why  ?  "  That 
nothing  be  lost.^''  Whatever  might  be  His  resources, 
however  easily  He  could  create.  He  would  not  suffer 
anything  He  had  made  to  be  wasted,  nor  the  most 
trivial  creation  of  His  handiwork  to  be  lost.  When 
the  Master  manifested  that  interest  in  the  fragments 
that  remained,  He  was  giving  development  to  His  di- 
vine nature  just  as  truly  as  when  He  was  creating  the 
bread  and  the  fish,  omitting  the  intermediate  processes 
of  growing  barley  and  heated  oven,  and  kneaded 
dough,  with  no  home  for  the  fish  in  the  bosom  of  the 
sea.  It  is  the  nature  of  that  God  revealed  in  Christ, 
to  care  for  all  that  He  has  made,  though  but  a  crumb 
of  bread  or  a  piece  of  a  fish,  as  constantly  and  as 
unweariedly,  as,  with  wisdom  and  skill,  originally  to 
create  and  call  into  being  and  life.  Until  the  material 
universe  has  accomplished  its  purpose  and  shall  be 


31 


burned  up,  not  an  atom  of  which  it  is  composed  is  al- 
lowed to  perish,  not  a  force  that  is  once  employed  is 
ever  spent,  not  an  influence  that  is  exerted  ever  dies 
away.  Each  alike  is  a  ripple  on  the  surface  of  that 
sea,  whose  receding  waves  are  never  still.  This  is  but 
the  scientific  law,  admitted  in  all  our  philosophy,  of 
the  "conservation  of  force."  Forms  of  existence 
change  ;  new  relations  are  established  ;  modifications 
are  constant  and  transitions  ceaseless  ;  but  the  atoms 
with  which,  they  play  are  indestructible — the  material 
they  use  is  never  lost.  The  ray  of  light  that  shines 
down  to  us  from  yonder  sun,  and  tben  floats  upon  its 
way,  has  not  fulfllled  its  mission,  it  has  not  finished 
its  work.  That  ray  of  light  will  not  be  wasted.  It 
cannot  be  lost.  It  will  float  on  through  this  vast  uni- 
verse, bearing  radiance  to  other  realms,  carrying  light 
upon  its  bosom  to  other  worlds  than  this,  spanning 
the  distance,  it  may  be,  between  earth  and  sea  green 
Sirius,  among  the  remotest  of  the  stars. 

This  is  an  established  law  of  nature,  impressed 
upon  her  mighty  chart  by  that  God  of  nature,  who, 
when  in  the  wilderness,  bids  disciples  "gather  up  the 
fragments,"  who,  in  this  vast  universe,  permits  noth- 
ing to  be  wasted,  nothing  to  be  lost. 

And  this  is  His  purpose,  ray  friends,  with  us.  No 
energy  of  ours  is  ever  wasted  ;  no  effort  we  put  forth 
is  ever  lost.  Each  word  we  speak  leaps,  at  the  utter- 
ance, upon  an  endless  mission,  measured  only  by  the 
years  of  God.  Who  can  estimate  the  tide  of  joy  and 
cheer  that  pours  forth  from  the  silent  recesses  of  a 


32 


word  of  kindness,  the  gentle  accents  of  love  ?  The 
leaven  of  a  noble  purpose,  of  a  pure  thought,  of  an 
honest  life,  put  into  the  meal  of  character,  moulds  and 
works  within  it,  and  goes  forth,  in  resistless  influence, 
to  other  hearts  and  lives. 

If  these  things  be  so,  how  momentous  are  the  is- 
sues of  our  lives  ;  how  enduring  and  how  lasting  the 
destinies  of  the  hour.  Each  thought  we  think,  each 
feeling  we  entertain,  each  purpose  we  form,  touches, 
in  silent  impact,  the  eternities.  Eacti  puts  its  finger 
to  the  battery  of  events,  and  calls  forth  the  electric 
charge,  whose  force  we  can  never  measure,  whose 
strength  defies  our  calculations,  whose  story  will  be 
told  only  when  the  books  are  opened,  and  all  thoughts 
revealed. 

II,  Observe,  also,  in  this  command  of  our  text, 
the  interest  of  the  Master  in  little  things.  The  mul- 
titude have  started  for  their  homes,  and  have  left 
those  fragments  to  the  dogs,  or  to  some  wandering 
beasts  of  the  desert.  They  will  never  give  them 
another  thought.  The  "fragments"  were  so  unimport- 
ant, so  trivial,  so  valueless.  Such  a  little  thing.  Not 
so  the  Master.  As  the  attitude  of  His  being,  as  the  post- 
ure in  which  He  abides,  God  cares  always  for  little 
things — He  remembers  the  "fragments."  It  is  He  who 
watches  the  sparrow's  flight.  He  who  counts  the 
hairs  of  our  heads.  Little  things  are  with  Him, 
in  His  wise  control  of  all  events,  the  hinges 
on  which  the  greater  are  made,  as  majestic 
doors,    to   turn.     They  are  the  gateway  to  many 


33 


a  stupendous  issue,  to  many  an  eventful  scene.  They 
are  the  lever  by  which  vast  weigbts  are  lifted, 
and  ponderous  bodies  posed  in  air.  When  the 
Andrews  bring  the  Simons  to  Jesus,  they  know  not 
the  work  the  Simons,  in  after  years,  may  do.  When 
the  Marys  pour  the  ointment  of  their  devotion  on  the 
Master's  head,  they  know  not  the  influence  of  their 
deed  upon  the  generations  to  come,  among  whom  it 
shall  be  recorded  for  a  memorial  of  them.  God  can 
multiply  "awordfltly  spoken"  so  that,  in  the  final 
solution  of  the  problem,  it  will  be  a  soul  saved  forever 
"out  of  the  depths."  A  spark  is  seen  falling  on  mor- 
tar, and,  in  the  prolific  thought  of  the  inventor,  the 
product  is  gunpowder,  the  agent  of  immeasurable 
results,  the  arbiter  of  many  a  destiny,  the  last  appeal 
of  nations.  The  steam  engine,  with  all  its  ramifica- 
tions in  the  practical  arts  and  applied  sciences,  is  born 
in  the  brain  of  that  boy  who  sits,  apparently  so  idly, 
watching  the  steam  as  it  rises  from  the  mouth  of  the 
tea  kettle. 

When  the  long,  hard  work  of  digging  and  delv- 
ing was  finished  among  the  reefs  and  rocks  of  Hell 
Gate,  New  York  ;  when  the  mine  was  set,  and  the 
moment  for  the  explosion,  terrible  and  terrific,  had 
come,  Gen.  Newton  led  his  little  girl  up  to  the  battery, 
who,  with  soft  and  delicate  touch,  drew  fortli  the  elec- 
tric charge  that  rove  the  rocks,  that  opened  a  pathway 
amid  those  high  walled  chambers  for  the  vessel  on  its 
way,  that  shook,  with  its  mighty  convulsion,  the  hid- 
den depths  of  the  sea.    So  unseen  forces  many  times, 


34 


and  results  immense  and  immeasurable,  follow  from 
the  gentlest  toucli,  the  softest  linger,  of  some  unno- 
ticed, unseen  thing.  It  is  the  method,  sublime  and 
wonderful,  of  Him  who  uses  the  least  and  em- 
ploys the  humblest,  and  makes  them  the  mightiest 
agencies  of  His  will  and  power.  Who  "gather(s)  up 
the  fragments."  With  W^hom  nothing  is  great,  and, 
therefore,  in  Whose  esteem,  nothing  can  be  small. 

A  woman  touches  the  border  of  the  Master's 
hem.  A  touch  is  nothing,  reasons  Peter,  in  his  im- 
petuosity, in  his  ignorance  of  unseen  forces.  A  touch 
is  everything,  reasons  the  Master,  and  He  makes  the 
woman  well !  I  see  Him  standing,  too,  by  the  treas- 
ury. One  and  another  passes  and,  in  his  wealth  and 
opulence,  castsinto  the  treasury  the  golden  coin.  "Ah 
how  liberal  they  are,"  whisper  the  discii^les.  A  poor 
woman,  in  her  penury,  puts  in  her  mites.  Pretty 
small  contribution,  murmur  the  disciples.  But  this 
is  the  word  of  the  Master,  who  gathers  up  the  frag- 
ments, and  cares  for  little  things:  "Verily,  Isay  unto 
you.  That  this  poor  widow  hath  cast  more  in,  than  all 
they  which  have  cast  into  the  treasury."  A  paltry 
mite  of  copper  excelled  the  gleaming  talents  of  gold, 
because  there  was  more  self  sacrifice  behind  it.  As 
the  voice  of  the  Master  is  calling  us  to  duty,  and 
summoning  us  to  toil,  is  the  language  of  the  unwilling 
prophet  upon  our  hearts,  and  are  we  answering  that 
we  are  but  as  a  little  child — least  and  lowest  in  the 
kingdom  ?  Then,  though  we  are  but  fragments,  in 
the  midst  of  vast  and  mighty  agencies,  it  may  be  the 


35 


fragments  that  He  will  be  pleased  to  employ,  with 
which  to  work  most  wondrously  to  the  upbuilding  of 
His  kingdom,  and  the  triumphs  of  His  grace.  His 
power  IS  the  infinite  multiplier.  No  matter  how  small 
the  multiplicand.    The  product  must  be  inhnite. 

III.  Then  we  are  thinking,  in  the  third  place,  of 
that  circle  of  twelve  disciples  engaged  in  a  very  menial 
and  lowly  task  ;  one  that  kad  in  it  no  honor  or  dig- 
nity in  their,  or  in  the  multitude's  esteem.  They  are 
picking  up  the  pieces.  It  is  work  they  perhaps  de- 
spise, and  that  takes  away  all  the  glory  they  had 
achieved  when,  proudly  and  confidently,  they  were 
dispensing  bread  from  some  unseen  bakery  by  the  loaf, 
and  fish  from  some  undiscovered  sea  by  the  score. 
And  that  lowly,  humble  task  required  incomparably 
more  grace,  with  which  to  perform  it  willingly  and  to 
do  it  well,  than  did  the  nobler,  grander  work  that 
sometimes  fell  to  their  hands. 

When  those  disciples  were  sent  forth  to  preach, 
and  the  multitudes  hung  upon  their  words ;  when 
they  came  to  the  people,  clothed  witli  miraculous 
power,  invested  with  their  Master's  own  authority — 
then  they  were  the  cynosure  of  every  eye,  the  envied 
of  all  who  beheld.  Such  missions  as  these,  it  required 
very  little  grace  to  be  willing  to  fulfil.  Any  man 
would  have  grasped  at  them.  And  they  came  back 
to  the  Master  with  words  of  exultation  on  their  lips, 
surprised  and  wondering  at  their  own  successes. 
When,  in  this  scene  in  the  wilderness,  they  were  com- 
manded to  take  in  their  hands  the  bread  and  the  fish  ; 


36 


when,  as  they  began  to  distribute,  the  bread  kept 
coming,  and  the  fish,  in  adequate  supply,  those  dis- 
ciples were  the  observed  of  all  observers.  Tlie  Master 
was  cast  into  the  shade.  Perliaps  the  twelve  were  ex- 
ultant and  lifted  up  hy  the  ini])ressiveness  of  the 
scene,  and  by  the  prominence  of  the  part  in  that 
strange  drama  they  were  called  to  play.  Perhaps  they 
needed  the  subsequent  toil  of  picking  up  the  pieces  to 
bring  them  down  to  a  proper  level  of  humility  and 
self  renunciation.  And  while  they  were  doing  that 
work,  filling  their  baskets  with  the  fragments,  the 
multitude  looking  on  with  contempt,  then  was  the 
time  of  their  need,  then  was  more  grace  given  that 
they  might  do  their  work  cheerfully,  that  they  might 
obey  the  Master  willingly,  that  they  might  serve  Him 
faithfully  and  well,  than  when  they  were  called  to 
preach  with  an  eloquence  not  their  own,  to  heal  with 
delegated  power,  to  feed  the  assembled  thousands  un- 
til, supplied  from  unseen  sources,  the  multitude  were 
filled. 

And  ahvays,  my  friends,  it  is  the  humble,  lowly 
task,  the  menial,  servile  toil,  that  requires  the  noblest 
devotion,  that  develops  the  sweetest  spirits,  that  man- 
ifests the  most  abundant  grace.  The  voice  that  spoke 
so  gently  to  the  Syrian  of  old,  speaks  also  to  us,  with 
all  its  inherent  truth :  "If  the  prophet  had  bid 
thee  do  some  great  thing,  wouldest  thou  not  have 
done  it  Indeed  we  would,  and  we  would  have  all 
been  glad  to.  But  the  ordinary  tasks,  the  humble, 
lowly  toil  of  every  day, — behind  the  counter,  at  the 


37 


work  bench,  in  the  kitchen,  work  such  as  the  disciples 
are  doing  when  they  pick  up  the  bread  and  the  fish 
lying  in  fra2;ments  at  their  feet,— this,  this  calls  for 
heroism,  this  demands  devotion,  this  develops  most 
the  true  disciple  of  our  Lord.  "If  any  man  will  be 
great  among  you,  let  him  be  your  servant."  It  re- 
quires more  grace  to  be  a  doorkeeper  at  the  White 
House  than  to  be  the  President  in  the  East  room.  It 
requires  more  grace  to  attend  at  the  palace'  gate  than 
to  sit  upon  the  throne  within  the  palace'  walls.  It  is 
nobler  sometimes  to  serve  than  to  command.  It 
may  be  a  greater  thing  to  be  a  good  sexton  than  to 
preach  a  good  sermon,  or  to  sit  in  a  desirable  pew. 

IV .  And,  as  we  close,  we  are  thinking  of  the  broken 
fragments  of  our  hopes  and  plans.  We  think  of  them 
only  in  despair  and  sad  discouragement.  We  moisten 
them  with  our  tears.  We  leave  them  in  the  dust  of 
cheerless  gloom.  But  the  Master,  in  some  wise  pur- 
pose of  unchanging  love,  of  love  that  makes  no  mis- 
takes, says  to  His  angels  :  "  Gather  up  the  fragments." 
Collect  those  broken  hopes.  Bring  together  . those  baf- 
fled plans.  Combine  them  in  some  gift  of  choicest 
blessing,  of  highest  boon,  to  the  troubled,  downcast 
soul. 

Ah,  the  fragments,  the  broken  ends,  the  shattered, 
riven  hopes,  in  these  lives  of  ours — how  many  they 
are  !  How  thickly  do  they  strew  the  ground  I  We 
don't  know  what  to  do  with  them.  They  seem  to  lie 
there  purposeless,  wasted  forever,  wholly  lost.  But, 
no  !    An  unseen  Hand  is  gathering  them  while  we  are 


38 


so  troubled  and  disturbed ;  invisible  Love  is  jiutting 
them  together;  by  and  bj-e,  when  the  work  is  done, 
we  shall  find,  in  glad  discovery,  that  they  have 
wrought  out  for  us  "  the  far  more  exceeding  and  eter- 
nal weight  of  glory.''  And  then  there  will  be  no 
broken  ends.  No  shattered,  riven  piece.  No  "frag- 
ments that  remain.''  In  God's  restored  and  re-united 
handiwork,  in  His  finished  purpose,  our  lives  will  be 
complete,  our  hopes  will  find  fulfillment,  and  so  our 
hearts  will  be  at  rest— these  hearts  that  are  so  restless 
until  they  find  their  rest  in  God.  Then,  and  not  till 
then,  shall  we  be  able  to  exclaim,  in  the  dying  words 
of  the  illustrious  Dean  of  Westminster,  "I  am  per- 
fectly happy  ;  I  am  perfectly  satisfied." 


PTiil.  IV:  11.    1 7iave  learned,  in  whatsoever  state  I 
am,  therewith  to  he  content. 

A.VING  learned  this  lesson,  in  what  striking  con- 
trast does  the  apostle  stand  with  man  in  his 
normal  condition.  How  different  the  ripeness 
of  that  Christian  experience  from  human  nature,  as 
you  find  it  the  world  over.  Man,  everywhere,  and  in 
all  ages,  is  the  child  of  dissatisfaction  and  discontent. 
Foreign  writers  of  our  day  have  often  pronounced 
these  traits  of  character  peculiarly  American.  The 
American  people,  they  tell  us,  so  rapid  in  their 
growth,  so  intent  upon  the  attainment  of  wealth,  the 
land  of  the  Vanderbilts  and  Goulds,  the  Sharons  and 
Fairs,  a  people  so  fond,  and  yet  so  lavish,  of  their  re- 
sources, are  pre-eminently  the  dissatisfied,  discon- 
tented nation  of  the  day.  The  charge  is,  in  a  meas- 
ure, true.  Our  people,  as  a  rule,  and  perhaps  dis- 
tlnguishingly,  whether  in  the  mart  of  commerce  and 
of  trade,  or  in  the  halls  of  science  and  polite  learning, 
whether  you  take  the  workman  at  his  bench  or  the 
scholar  among  his  booke,  are  struggling  untiringly, 
to  excess,  toward  something  higher  and  better,  toward 
more  marked  achievement,  and  more  substantial  and 
lasting  results.  Throughout  the  land,  pervading  the 
activity  of  our  people,  there  is  ceaseless,  constant,  cor- 
roding, unrest.    But  this  is  only  a  part  of  the  truth. 


40 


Turn  where  you  may,  to  what  nation  of  the  earth  you 
will,  back  to  what  period  of  history  you  please,  and 
the  same  spectacle  meets  your  s^ze,  the  same  control- 
ling tendency  inheres.  At  the  fountain  of  human 
history,  in  its  first  beginnings,  it  was  discontent— a 
desire  for  a  knowledge  they  did  not  possess  and  that 
they  would  have  been  ten  thousand  times  better  oflf 
if  they  never  had — chis  that  led  our  first  parents  into 
sin,  that  made  us  a  race  of  sinners.  Discontent,  on 
the  plains  of  Babel,  built  its  tower,  confounded  the 
tongues,  and  scattered  the  builders.  And  over  each 
paaje  of  history,  as  man  has  lost  the  present  and  mis- 
improved  it  in  his  aspirations  toward  the  future ; 
ceaselessly  struggling,  longing  for  something  that 
seems  better  beyond — over  each  page  of  that  history 
this  may  be  written  as  the  substance  of  its  contents : 
Dissatisfaction,  discontentment,  unrest.  It  is  the  long 
and  weary  pursuit  of  the  fabled  gold  at  the  rainbow's 
base, — the  pursuer  lured  on  and  on,  the  gold  always 
far  ahead. 

As  Spenser  puts  it : 

"Full  little  knowest  thou  that  hast  not  tried, 
What  hell  it  is  in  suing  long  to  hide  ; 
To  lose  good  days  that  might  be  better  spent ; 
To  waste  long  nights  in  pensive  discontent  ; 
To  speed  to-day,  to  be  put  back  to  morrow  ; 
To  feed  on  hope,  to  pine  with  fear  and  sorrow . 
To  fret  thyself  with  crosses  and  with  cares  ; 
To  eat  thy  heart  with  comfortless  despairs  ; 
To  faune,  to  crouch,  to  wait,  to  ride,  to  run, 
To  spend,  to  give,  to  want,  to  be  undone." 

You  find  the  tendency  of  which  I  speak  implanted, 


41 


growing,  in  the  hearts  of  the  young.  The  pleasures 
of  childhood  are  chilled  by  the  thought  of  how  much 
better  it  will  be,  and  how  much  happier  they,  when 
they  shall  be  men.  Wlien  the  years  of  childhood  are 
passed,  the  disposition  has  grown  with  our  growth, 
and  strengthened  with  our  strength.  In  this  sense, 
we  do  not  "put  away  childish  things."  Rising  man- 
hood and  womanhood  are  stripped  of  their  full  vigor, 
divested  of  their  highest,  noblest  purpose  by  idle 
musings  of  what  mUy  thoughtless  of  what  is. 
And  then  when  old  age  has  come,  and  the  strength 
and  vigor  are  gone,  and  gone  forever,  there  remains  the 
gnawing  of  discontent  over  the  little  that  has  been  ac- 
complished, the  less  in  that  hours  were  devoted  to  idle 
aspirations,  to  vain,  illusive  hopes,  in  which,  had  hand 
and  heart  proved  faithful,  more  would  have  been 
achieved.  Neither  do  we  see  this  spirit  of  discontent 
more  largely  developed  where  we  would  expect,  in  the 
circumstances  of  the  case,  especially  to  find  it.  It  is 
not  confined  to  the  hovel  of  the  poor,  to  the  hours  of 
hard  wrought  labor  so  illy  remunerated  at  the  work 
bench  or  in  the  shop.  Its  dwelling  place  is  not  pecul- 
iarly with  those  whose  condition  in  life  is  lowly,  or 
their  station  humble  or  obscure.  Rather  you  will  find 
it  more  seldom,  less  active,  here.  The  principle  of  its 
operation  seems  rather  to  be,  that  the  more  we  have, 
the  better  circumstanced  in  life  we  are,  the  more  dis- 
satisfied, the  more  restless,  are  we  with  the  lot  in 
which  Providence  has  placed  us,  the  more  do  we  long 
and  despondingly  dream  of  something  better  beyond. 


42 


"Poor  and  content" — reasons  the  hero  of  the 
dramatist — "is  rich,  and  rich  enough."  Ah  the 
wealth,  though  men  call  him  poor,  the  wealth,  the  op- 
ulence, of  the  man  who  is  "shut  up  in  measureless 
content." 

*    *    *  ''Verily 
*    *   *    'tis  better  to  be  lowly  born, 
And  range  with  humble  lives  in  content, 
Than  to  be  perch'd  up  in  glistering  grief, 
And  wear  a  golden  sorrow." 

For,  many  times  in  life,  you- may  tui'n  from  the 
luxury  of  the  abode,  where  all  that  wealth  can  give  is 
found,  and  having  read  the  story  of  discontentment 
there,  of  weariness  with  pleasure,  of  surfeit  with  ex- 
cess, of  constant  search  for  some  new  and  undiscovered 
joy,  go  to  the  cottage  with  few  rooms  and  small,  the 
board  frugal  and  spare,  and  find  at  last  the  angel  of 
the  house— content.  There  is  many  a  man  who  has 
plied  the  anvil  from  boyhood  to  old  age,  and  found 
satisfaction  the  while  in  the  strong  arm,  the  vigorous 
stroke,  the  healthy,  though  comparatively  inactive 
brain.  An  ox  takes  more  delight  in  a  pasture  field, 
than  an  epicure  in  choicest  viands.  The  street  Arab 
enthuses  ten-fold  more  in  the  finding  of  a  dollar  on  the 
sidewalk,  than  a  Jay  Gould  in  turning  an  easy  million 
in  the  Stock  Exchange. 

As  an  inseparable  element  of  this  spirit  of  discon- 
tent, present  enjoyment  is  invariably  lessened,  often 
wholly  lost.  Pleasure  is  sought,  not  in  present  duty 
performed,  where  alone  it  can  be  found,  but  rather  in 
liopes  of  the  future,  in  dreams  of  better  days.  Labor 


43 


becomes  irksome,  honest  toil  a  burden,  because  so  in' 
ferior,  in  comparison  to  an  imagined  blessing,  some 
fancied  condition  in  life  yet  to  come.  The  bird  in  the 
hand  is  let  go,  for  the  two  in  the  bush  that  may  never 
be  caught.  The  comfortable  abode  of  present  satisfac- 
tion is  left  behind,  and  men  live  in  the  cold  of  idle 
hope  and  useless  fancy,  until  fortune  may  find  them  a 
palace. 

The  question  then  arises,  what  is  the  secret  or 
cause  of  this  prevailing  spirit  of  discontent,  which  is 
sapping  the  foundations  of  all  true  happiness  and  honest 
enjoyment,  and  how  may  it  be  remedied  or  removed?  I 
think  the  answer  is  that  it  is  due  to  an  erroneous  con- 
ception of  greatness,  toward  which  so  many,  in  the 
race  of  life,  are  struggling,  and  to  which  so  many  hope 
some  day  to  attain.  All,  in  one  sphere  of  action  or 
another,  in  one  way  or  another,  all  desire  to  rise.  If 
man  understood  true  greatness,  that  desire  would  be 
the  noblest  aspiration  of  the  soul,  the  purest  religion. 
Here  then  we  find  the  hinge,  upon  which  this  whole 
subject  turns.  It  is  the  answer  to  the  question,  What 
is  true  greatness,  the  highest  excellence?  And  the 
answer  will  perhaps  more  readily  be  suggested  by 
contrast.  Greatness,  then,  as  men  look  upon  great- 
ness, as  men  struggle  and  toil  toward  its  attainment, 
consists  in  some  position  of  influence  or  superiority, 
some  station  of  honor  and  trust  among  their  fellow 
men.  True  greatness  consists  in  faithfulness  in  the  po- 
sition, however  humble  or  obscure,  in  which  we  are 
now  placed.    Earthly  greatness  consists  in  what  we 


44 


have,  a  certain  amount  of  money,  or  influence,  or  in 
official  place.  True  greatness  in  wliat  we  are.  An 
honest,  upright  coal  carrier  is  greater  than  a  dishonest, 
wicked  king.  In  the  intercourse  of  men,  and  the  tide 
of  human  events,  it  often  occurs  that  men  of  very  in- 
ferior stature  in  intellect  and  morals  are  standing  on 
the  giddy  height  of  prosperity  and  fame,  while  many 
of  far  nobler  worth  are  treading  the  plains  below. 
But  they  on  the  summit  are  no  greater,  because  they 
are  higher  up.  True  greatness  does  not  depend  upon 
where — but  always  and  only  upon  what — a  man  is.  In 
the  scales  of  the  eternities,  money,  office,  fame,  are 
tlung  high  in  air ;  while  truth,  endurance,  honesty, 
faith,  these  are  the  heavy  weights — these  count  in  the 
tons.  A  pure  soul,  though  it  exhales  its  atmosphere 
of  sanctity  amid  scenes  of  poverty  and  reproach, 
though  clothed  with  rags  and  dwelling  in  a  hovel,  is 
always  great.  A  mean  spirit,  a  narrow  mind,  though 
"clothed  with  purple  and  fine  linen,  and  faring  sump- 
tuously every  day,"  though  seated  on  a  throne,  and 
dwelling  in  a  palace,  is  always  small.  A  ball  is  not 
made  larger  by  throwing  it  into  the  air.  Neither  are 
men,  whom  some  sudden  turn  of  fortune  has  hurled, 
as  it  were,  into  popularity  and  fame.  Greatness 
is  independent  of  circumstances.  It  is  unchanged  by 
the  changes  of  time.  A  great  man,  whose  greatness 
is  in  himself,  will  be  great  everywhere,  take  him 
where  you  will.  He  will  be  great  as  a  chimney-sweep, 
sweeping  his  chimneys  clean,  and  sweeping  them 
conscientiously.    Great  in  the  meanest  toil,  peform- 


45 


ing  it  grandly,  in  faithfulness  and  truth.  Things  the 
most  trivial,  efforts  the  most  despised  will  be  lifted  to 
the  plane  of  his  own  inherent  greatness,  and  dignified 
with  his  own  abiding  worth.  His  innate  nobility  of 
soul  will  be  everywhere  a  magnet,  that  will  draw  the 
coarsest  iron  up  to  himself.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
man  vvho  has  not  that  greatness  in  himself,  who  seeks 
it  rather  in  where,  than  in  what,  he  is,  who  expects  to 
find  it  in  some  superior  position,  some  higher  plane, 
rather  than  in  faitiifulness  in  that  position  in  which 
he  stands,  that  man  can  never  attain  true  greatness, 
succeed  how  he  may.  His  soul  is  narrow,  his  intellect 
confined,  his  heart  bound  up  in  himself;  he  is  small 
by  nature,  and  lie  will  be  small,  though  he  may  ride 
smoothly  upon  the  waves  of  fortune,  or  sit  in  some 
chair  of  state.  It  will  be  the  old  fable  of  the  frog 
proposing  to  swell  to  the  proportions  of  the  ox.  The 
distended  sides  will  be  insignificant  in  comparison 
with  the  envied  ideal,  and  the  effort  will  be  fatal  to 
the  frog. 

And  yet  it  is  the  inferior,  and  not  the  higher  and 
nobler,  greatness  of  which  we  have  spoken,  toward 
which  man  is  striving,  and  the  hoped  for  attainment 
of  which  occasions  the  prevailing  discontent,  dissatis- 
faction, unrest,  that  are  reigning  in  society.  Men  are 
not,  as  a  general  thing,  discontented  with  what,  but 
only  with  where  they  are.  They  are  not  impatient, 
restless  to  be  better,  but  rather,  just  as  they  are,  to 
get  higher.  Not  to  be  good  citizens,  but  legislators 
and  governors  and  officers  of  state.    Now  this  inferior 


46 


greatness,  this  greatness  toward  which  men  are  gen- 
erally found  discontentedly  aspiring— this  greatness 
of  externals,  of  position,  popularity,  or  power — is 
that  which,  in  the  order  of  nature,  but  very  few  can 
attain.  There  are  not  enough  seats  in  the  legislature, 
there  is  not  an  adequate  supply  of  gubematorial 
honors,  there  is  not  a  sufficiency  of  easy  berths  .in  the 
Custom  House  to  go  round.  A  very  great  many  must 
be  left  out  in  the  cold.  In  this  lottery  the  majority 
hold  blank  tickets.  What  then  should  be  the  effect 
of  this  familiar  fact  of  experience,  this  common  lot  of 
humanity?  Should  it  be  to  discourage  the  aspirant, 
or  to  increase  the  prevailing  si)irit  of  discontent?  No. 
But  this  rather.  It  should  lead  us,  each  one,  to  set 
before  us  in  life  a  higher  standard,  and  yet  a  standard 
that,  though  higher,  we  can  all,  the  humblest  and  the 
weakest,  attain.  It  should  inspire  us  to  aim  not  so 
much  at  a  first  position,  as  at  a  faithful  discharge  of 
the  duties  and  responsibilities  of  the  position,  whether 
lower  or  higher,  in  which  we  are  placed .  To  seek,  in 
short,  that  truer  greatness,  which  consists  in  what  we 
are,  rather  than  in  what  we  have.  When  we  thus 
aspire,  we  may  set  before  us,  for  our  example,  the 
greatest  man  the  world  ever  knew.  Jesus  never  oc- 
cupied a  high  position,  after  the  estimation  of  men. 
All  the  associations  of  His  life  were  lowly,  and  I  may 
say,  despised.  He  was  born  in  a  manger;  He  lived  in 
Nazareth;  He  toiled  in  a  carpenter  shop;  His  pulpit 
was  the  wayside;  He  was  penniless  and  homeless;  He 
shared  the  contempt  of  the  upper  classes  while  He 


47 


lived;  He  hung  on  a  Roman  gibbet  when  He  died. 
Pharisees  condensed  their  unmeasured  scorn  in  one 
word,  and  hurled  it  at  Him  with  derision.  "This!'* 
leaving  the  blank  to  imagination. 

And  yet,  in  His  greatness  of  soul,  He  was  above 
all  principalities  and  powers.  That  greatness  was 
found  in  Himself.  And  when  He  described  it,  He 
said:  "I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart."  In  the  enjoy- 
ment of  that,  the  Christ  was  satisfied.  He  was  wholly 
content.  Place  before  you  that  truer,  that  higher 
greatness — the  greatness  of  Jesus,  the  greatness  of 
God;  listen  to  His  word,  as  he  says  to  dissatisfied,  dis- 
contented, impatient  man,  "learn  of  me" — and  He  will 
give  you  rest.  Becoming  great  as  Jesus  was  great, 
you  will  be  wholly  content.  And  this  is  true  ambi- 
tion. Not  the  restless  struggling  for  some  vain  chi- 
mera we  will  probably  never  attain.  Not  the  folding 
of  the  arras,  and  dreaming  of  better  days  to  come. 
But  rather  the  aspiration  that  soars  meekly,  humbly 
toward  excellence  in  the  sphere  in  which  we  are  mov- 
ing, toward  fidelity  to  the  trusts  already  committed 
to  our  charge.  And  so  only  shall  we  be  prepared  for 
a  higher  sphere,  or  for  larger  trusts.  In  the  affairs  of 
men,  he  is  promoted  from  one  department  of  his  em- 
ploy to  another,  who  establishes  his  claim  by  skill 
and  ingenuity  in  a  lower,  never  he  who  sits  and  sighs 
to  be  there.  And  this  is  the  Master's  word:  "He 
who  is  faithful  in  that  which  is  least,  will  one  day  be 
faithful  in  that  which  is  much"  —  "will  be  ruler  over 
ten  cities."    Only  he,  the  faithful  in  the  lowest  and 


48 


the  least,  will  have  the  opportunity  to  establish  his 
fitness  for  higher  things. 

Until  you  and  I,  my  friends,  learn  this  lesson,  life 
will  be  barren,  our  days  a  blank.  It  is  this  content- 
ment that  renders  present  duty  a  pleasure;  that  dig- 
nifies, exalts  the  humblest,  lowliest  life.  It  casts  a 
halo  around  the  feeblest  effort.  It  places  a  crown 
upon  the  brow  of  the  laborer,  wherever  the  field  of 
his  toil,  It  makes  religion  what  it  is.  "Godliness 
with  contentment  is  great  gain."  "With  content- 
ment." 


Rom.  11:1. 


Paiient  continuance  in  well  doing. 


HIS  is  Paul's  idea  of  practical  religion.  He  is  ex- 
^  pressing  himself  very  plainly,  and  with  all  can- 
dor,  to  a  class  of  people  who  are  sadly  failing  to 
practice  what  they  preach.  Who  are  condemning 
other  people  for  what  they  do  themselves.  People 
between  whose  words  and  whose  works  there  is  a  di- 
vergence wide  as  the  poles,  and  distant  as  the  anti- 
podes. Paul  tells  this  class  of  people  that  there  isn' t  any 
chance  for  them.  They  are  doomed,  however  eloquent 
their  preaching,  however  sound  the  advice  they  offer. 
"Thinkest  thou  this,  O  man,  that  jndgest  them  which 
do  such  things,  and  doest  the  same,  that  thou  shalt 
escape  the  judgment  of  God  They  can't  get  away 
from  judgment  by  exhorting  other  men  from  sin.  Said 
a  friend  of  mine  one  day,  I  practice  no  vices  in  i^rivate 
that  I  do  not  in  public.  It  was  not  especially  to  his 
credit  that  he  made  a  display  of  that  kind  of  property. 
But  perhaps  it  was  better  than  to  cover  and  conceal. 
Hypocrisy  involves  a  two-fold  fracture  of  law,  the  sin, 
and  the  lie  behind  the  sin.  Advice,  after  all,  does  not 
go  a  great  ways  in  the  influence  of  soul  upon  soul. 
Men  do  not  listen  to  what  we  are  advising,  but  to  how 
we  are  living.  It  is  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  to 
give  advice.  It  is  not  so  easy  to  put  a  life  behind  it. 
A  Martha  can  advise  a  Mary  to  go  to  work,  when  she 
is  doing  her  own  with  grumbling  and  discontent.  A 


51 


Peter  can  ask:  "Lord  and  what  shall  this  do  when 
the  all  essential  thing  is  what  he  is  going  to  do  in  the 
presence  of  the  Master's  severe  and  stern  rebuke. 

The  Ai:)ostle  is  addressing  himself  to  this  strange 
anomaly  in  the  text.  He  urges  to  personal  and  im- 
mediate resijonsibility.  Each  man  for  himself — con- 
fronting the  eternities,  and  before  God.  He  makes 
religion  a  personal  thing — a  reality  of  the  inmost  life — 
a  part  of  our  truer,  better  selves.  It  is  an  entity  in  the  in- 
most texture  of  the  human  soul  that  God  sees  where  no 
human  eye  can  discover,  and,  when  he  sees  it,  adopts  and 
signs  with  the  seal  royal  of  the  kingdom  for  all  the  ages. 
In  this  connection  the  apostle  gives  us  this  admirable 
definition,  this  comprehensive  analysis,  of  all  religion 
that  I  have  chosen  for  our  thought  to-day.  "Patient 
continuance  in  well  doing."  A  bias  rightward.  The 
statement  meets  two  popular  errors — errors  of  Paul's 
day,  and  errors  no  less  of  our  own. 

The  first  familiar  error  is  that  which  makes 
religion  a  matter  of  belief  or  theory.  Which 
misinterprets  that  class  of  scripture  texts  that 
present  faith  as  the  condition  of  acceptance  as  re- 
ferring to  intellectual  conviction,  mental  reception 
of  truth.  It  is  the  error  against  which  the  apostle 
James  reasons  so  forcibly  when  he  puts  the  decisive 
question:  "Can  faith  save  him  ?"  That  question  that 
upset  for  years  Martin  Luther's  exegesis.  On  this  basis 
of  theoretical  belief  in  truth  whole  systems  of  theology 
have  been  elaborated,  and  have  been  ratified  by  ecles- 
iastical  councils,  and  pronounced  essential  to  salva- 


52 


tion.  In  the  pharmacy  of  rigid  and  rigorons  theology, 
the  prescription  has  been  prepared,  all  the  ingredients 
carefully  mixed,  and  the  dose  put  to  the  lips  of  the 
faithful  who  shall  swallow  it  without  a  murmur,  or 
be  lost.  Now  the  only  element  of  faith  that  gives  it 
worth  or  reality  is  its  tendency  to  go  fortli  in  action. 
Its  nature  to  evolve.  As  James  reasons,  in  that  epis- 
tle, "If  a  brother  or  sister  be  naked,  and  destitute  of 
daily  food,  and  one  of  you  say  unto  them,  depart  in 
peace,  be  ye  warmed  and  filled;  notwithstanding  ye 
give  them  not  those  things  which  are  needful  to  the 
body;  what  doth  it  profit?"  Telling  them  to  be 
warm  don't  do  any  good,  if  they  are  cold.  Or  telling 
them  to  be  fed,  if  they  are  hungry.  Theorizing  don't 
meet  the  exigencies  of  the  case.  Words  are  only  on 
the  surface.  Something  must  be  done.  Somewhere 
clothes  must  be  found,  and  food  furnished,  or  there 
will  be  shivering  and  starvation. 

A  man' s  theology  goes  a  very  little  way  in  the  make 
upof  theman.  The  soundest  theologians  of  history  have 
been,  many  times,  its  vilest  rascals.  Henry  VIII,  that 
embodiment  of  British  iniquity,  furnished  the  Church 
of  England  its  theology,  and  told  archbishops  and  car- 
dinals what  to  believe.  The  Duke  ot  Alva,  redden- 
ing the  plains  of  Holland  with  blood,  was  sound  on 
all  the  essential  doctrines,  and  would  have  passed  a 
first-class  examination  before  a  Presbytery.  Those 
who  burned  witches  in  Rhode  Island  were  in  the  di- 
rect line  from  the  Pilgrims  of  Plymouth  Rock,  and 
no  ship  ever  carried  more  theology  than  the  May- 


53 


flower.  That  historic  ship  has  supplied  the  pulpits 
of  a  continent,  and  held  them  to  the  moorings 
of  eternal  truth.  Yet  believers  in  that  theology,  in  the 
fanaticism  of  the  hour,  kindled  martyr  fires  and  shed 
innocent  blood.  It  is  a  very  useless  procedure  to  ex- 
amine a  man  or  a  woman  who  applies  for  church 
membership  on  questions  of  doctrine,  on  issues  of 
theology,  because  that  tells  so  little  of  what  a  man  or 
a  woman  is.  Doctrine  has  so  little  to  do  with  duty. 
What  a  man  believes  with  what  a  man  is.  What  he 
evolves  in  theory  with  what  he  does  in  daily  life. 

Then  a  second  popular  fallacy,  as  false  as  the  first, 
is  that  salvation  and  eternal  life  are  ex  traneous  rewards, 
something  like  a  price  paid,  or  as  wages  rendered. 
So  much  goodness  and  so  much  glory.  In  contradis- 
tinction from  this  frequent  and  familiar  conception  I 
do  not  think  it  can  be  too  strongly  or  too  repeatedly 
urged,  as  the  fact  of  human  life,  that  reward  and 
punishment  are  natural  jjrocesses,  the  normal  effects, 
of  which  what  we  are  is  always  the  efficient  and  the 
final  cause.  We  grow  into  the  one  or  the  other  by 
the  necessity  of  our  natures,  by  the  irresistible  pro- 
pulsion of  what  we  are.  We  grow  into  what  the 
Bible  calls  life,  or  what  it  calls  death,  into  eternal 
states  of  existence,  as  conditions  of  our  inmost  selves, 
as  the  atmosphere  and  the  mould  of  our  own  imperish- 
able being.  You  put  a  bad  man  at  a  bound  in  heaven 
and  he  would  be  utterly  miserable,  because  he  was 
bad.  You  put  a  good  man  in  hell  and  he  would  be 
blessed,  because  he  was  good.    This  nature  of  ours  is 


54" 


a  seed  of  endless  and  deathless  possibilities;  in  the 
eternities  it  grows  into  its  own  maturity  and  ripeness 
— the  maturity  and  ripeness  of  its  own  inherent  es- 
sence, and  that  will  be  heaven  or  that  will  be  hell. 
This  soul  within  us  is  a  bud  that  will  blossom  as  a 
lily  in  the  garden  of  God,  because  it  is  a  lily  of  jieer- 
less  white;  or  it  will  bloom  as  deadly  nightshade  in 
the  pathless  dark  because  in  its  nature  it  is  night- 
shade. You  couldn't  change  nightshade  and  lily  |3y 
changing  their  places  where  they  pour  forth  sweet- 
ness or  exude  poison.  Locality  and  place  have  very 
little  to  do  with  these  deep  realities  of  soul — these  in- 
most truths  of  being.  These  natures  of  ours,  moulded 
by  the  mighty  spirit  of  Light,  and  Life  and  Love,  are 
the  many  mansions;  or,  left  untouched  by  celestial  in- 
fluences, these  natures  within  us  are  the  lake  and  the 
tire  and  the  worm.  A  wicked  nature — eternally 
wicked;  what  a  lake  that  is!  How  dark,  how  bot- 
tomless! A  bad  heart — eternally  bad;  what  a  des- 
troying fire  !  How  it  burns  and  blisters  and  consumes! 
A  perverted  spirit— eternallj^  l^erverse;  what  a  gnaw- 
ing worm  !  How  it  writhes  and  withers  and  wrecks  ! 
And  what  a  mansion  of  light  and  life  is  a  soul 
redeemed,  delivered,  disenthralled  ! 

As  the  thought  of  our  theme  to-day  the  life  that 
is  eternal  is  the  normal  effect,  the  inevitable  product, 
of  a  process  of  soul.  It  evolves  from  the  inmost  out- 
goings of  aspiration  and  desire  as  the  normal 
and  natural  result.  God  gives  eternal  life,  but 
He    gives    it  as   He  gives  fruit   to  the  tree,  or 


55 


grain  to  the  field,  or  fragrance  to  the  flower — as 
the  results  of  causes  that  produce  them  that  are  in- 
herent, that  He  has  put  into  the  essence  and  na- 
ture of  the  thing.  There  is  some  mystic  entity,  in- 
tangible and  unseen,  in  the  tree  that  becomes,  in  its 
unfolding  and  resistless  operation,  fruit,  in  the  field 
that  ripens  into  grain,  in  the  flower  that  wafts  itself 
in  fragrance.  In  the  soul,  that  is  life  and  heaven. 
These  are  the  fruitage,  the  maturing,  the  aroma  of 
spirit. 

If  we  are  asking  ourselves,  in  silent  thought, 
to-day,  whether  we  are  really  on  the  way  to  heaven, 
back  of  all  professions,  behind  and  beneath  all  out- 
ward, visible  relations  in  Zion,  the  answer  lies  simply 
here:  How  are  we  living ?  What  is  the  inmost  trend 
and  tenor  of  our  souls  ?  It  has  very  little  to  do  with 
the  question:  What  system  of  theology  we  believe,  the 
standard  of  what  ecclesiastical  organization  we  accept 
as  authorative,  whether  we  like  John  Calvin  or  John 
AVesley  better.  Neither  has  this  question  that  goes 
deep  down  into  our  souls  and  probes  to  the  inmost 
core  very  much  to  do  with  the  problem  whether  we 
have  entered  a  race  where  a  prize  is  offered,  or  have 
proposed  to  fight  a  battle  where  a  crown  is  given,  but 
are  we  running  that  race  that  is  itself  the  prize,  are  we 
fighting  that  battle  that  is  itself  the  crown,  are  we  liv- 
ing Godward  to-day  ? 

Eeligion  is  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world,  while  it  is  the  one  thing  supernatural. 
It  does  not  consist  in  spasms  or  hysteria.  There 


56 


are  seldom  hours  like  that  before  Damascus'  gate. 
And  have  you  ever  thought  how  little  that  won- 
derful experience  at  the  gate  of  Damascus  would 
have  amounted  to  in  the  life  of  that  gallant  captain, 
the  flash,  or  the  light,  or  the  voice,  or  the  fall,  had 
their  not  followed  those  quieter,  calmer  moments, 
when,  as  the  result  of  thoughtful,  mature  reflection 
during  three  long  days  in  Damascus,  those  scales  fell 
from  the  eyes  and  Paul  saw,  and  a  soul  had  clear 
vision.  Had  there  been  nothing  but  the  scene  before 
the  gate  that  has  become  so  historic,  and  that  so  many 
have  "perverted  as  they  do  the  other  scrix^tures  to 
their  own  destruction,"'  had  there  been  nothing  but 
that,  the  central  figure  of  that  thrilling  scene  would 
have  been,  as  the  lone  effect  of  it,  simply  a  blind  man, 
groping  in  darkness.  That  is  all.  The  three  days 
that  followed,  days  of  meditation,  though tfulness  and 
prayer,  brought  him  into  the  light.  All  this  only 
went  to  show  that  religion  does  not  consist  iu  marvel- 
lous experience,  in  sudden  rhapsody,  in  scenes  of 
Arabian  nights  adventure.  These  are  of  the  nature  of 
fable,  not  of  the  essence  of  faith.  Religion  is  simjDly 
doing  right.  Heaven  is  doing  right  forever.  Happi- 
ness is  in  the  doing.  The  doing  is  the  crown,  the 
sceptre,  the  mansion,  the  throne,  the  walls  of  ada- 
mant, the  streets  of  gold,  the  broad  boulevards  of 
glory. 

Xo  words  could  be  used  more  free  from  any- 
thing like  extravagance,  or  supernaturalness,  than 
these  words  I  have  quoted  from  the  apostle  as  my 


57 


text.  We  may  take  them  into  our  thought  as  his 
definition  of  religion,  his  outline  of  Christianity,  to- 
day. "Patient  continuance  in  well  doing."  Three 
things  are  vividly  and  clearl 3- pictured  in  the  apostle's 
thought. 

First:  '•'•well  doingP  This  is  intensely  prac- 
cical,  and  opens  the  door  to  our  daily,  hourly  life. 
It  leads  in  the  direction  not  of  wonderful  experi- 
ences, or  great  occasions,  but  to  habitual  self  control, 
and  the  calm,  deliberate  management  of  this  nature 
that  is  in  us,  and  that  we  must  govern  and  guide  and 
make  better  and  purer  and  sweeter  day  by  day. 
"Well  doing"  in  our  departments  of  business,  as  we 
are  honest,  reliable  and  true.  In  our  pleasures  and 
enjoyments,  as  we  select  them  wisely,  and  as  minis- 
trants  to  our  nobler  and  better  selves.  In  our  homes, 
as  we  are  considerate  and  clement  and  kind.  In  so- 
ciety, as  we  are  helpful  and  gentle  and  sweet.  "Well 
doing"  everywhere  and  amid  every  environment,  every 
fitful,  changeful  surrounding  in  life. 

'■'•Continuance  in  well  doing."  There  is  no  place 
in  Paul's  ideal  for  evanescent,  butterfly  disciples. 
There  is  no  taking  hold  of  the  plow  here,  and  looking 
back.  No  returning  "to  bid  farewell  to  them  of  our 
father's  house."  Ephemeral  piety  is  a  vapor,  vanish- 
ing with  the  morn.  Paul  is  thinking  of  an  atmosphere, 
pervading  as  space,  and  as  enduring. 

"Pa^/e/i^  continuance  in  well  doing."  When  we 
get  this  idea  of  religion  into  our  minds  and  into  our 
hearts,  we  realize  at  once  that  there  are  difficulties  to 


58 


surmount,  impediments  to  overcome,  hindrances  to 
hurl  from  every  upward  path.  There  wouldn't  be 
much  difficulty  in  living  a  religion  that  simply 
consisted  in  staying  in  a  kind  of  Theological 
Seminary,  masticating  creeds  and  digesting  con- 
fessions; or  in  accepting  a  religion  that  was  con- 
stituted wholly  in  taking  a  .crown,  or  grasping  a 
palm,  or  baring  the  brow  to  the  laurel,  at  the  end  of 
a  race.  But  Paul's  religion  necessitates  struggle.  It 
is,  in  its  nature,  war.  There  are  enemies  to  conquer. 
There  are  barriers  to  cast  down.  There  are  hostile  in- 
tiuences  to  overcome.  All  these  lie  in  tbe  way  of 
'■^well  doingy  These  are  the  rocks  and  the  pitfalls. 
"Through  patient  endurance"  we  shall  surmount  them. 
This  is  the  "trying  of  our  faith"  that  "worketh  pa- 
tience"—  "that  patience  may  have  her  perfect  work." 
James  says  he  counts  them  "happy  who  endure." 
Happy  because  they  have  found  the  supreme  attain- 
ment; blessed  because  they  are  religious. 

Some  one,  perhaps,  is  saying  just  now:  And  so 
Paul  has  left  out  Christ,  and  is  preaching  only 
a  religion  of  morality,  or  the  preacher  to-day  has 
misinterpi-eted  Paul,  and  set  him  in  a  wholly 
false  relation.  Let  us  see.  Into  this  religion  of 
well  doing  I  think  the  Christ  enters,  and  within 
this  ideal  of  the  apostle  dwells,  in  two  ways 
alike  all  important  and  alike  essential.  First  as  our 
Example— the  one  Child  of  man  who  ever  from  the 
cradle  to  the  grave  did  right  all  along,  and  so  lived 
this  religion.    Scribes  and  Pharises  were  troubled  about 


59 


His  morality.  They  were  afraid  He  was  going  to 
lower  the  standard — as  they  expressed  it,  that  He 
had  come  "to  destroy  the  law."  He  didn't  wash  his  hands 
with  sufficient  system  or  regularity.  He  didn't  keep 
the  Sabbath  after  their  fashion.  He  was  too  intimate 
with  sinners.  He  was  a  high  liver.  Well,  He  didn' t 
attend  to  these  things  very  scrupulously.  He  was 
somewhat  careless  about  them.  But  He  was  the  most 
moral  Man  the  world  ever  saw.  The  best  development 
of  manhood.  The  Supreme  Ideal.  In  the  words  He 
spoke,  in  the  life  He  lived,  it  was  true  as  He  said  that 
He  ''came  not  to  destroy  the  law  but  to  fulfill."  Into 
this  religion  of  well  doing,  therefore,  the  Master 
comes  as  our  Example. 

But  far  more  than  that,  He  comes  into 
this  ideal  religion  as  our  alone  Enabler.  By 
whose  grace  alone  this  religion  is  a  possibility 
When  we  come  to  the  method,  how  we  are  to  live  this 
life,  how  to  actualize  this  religion,  then  we  come  right 
to  the  Master's  holy  feet.  We  pass  from  the  moral 
element,  which  is  common  to  all  religions,  to  the 
spiritual,  which  is  found  alone  in  the  religion  of  the 
Christ.  All  religions  tell  us  we  must  do  right. 
Only  the  religion  of  the  Christ  tells  us  how  to  do  it. 
All  other  religions,  in  the  last  analysis,  confront  us 
with  the  great  impossibility  :  A  lost- soul  doing  right. 
Only  the  religion  of  the  cross  presents  the  eternal  pos- 
sibility of  faith:  A  lost  soul  saved,  and  so,  as  the  un- 
folding of  its  new  nature,  doing  right  by  irresistible 
propulsion.    The  cry  of  every  other  religion  on  God's 


60 


earth  is,  "who  is  sufficient  to  these  things?"  The 
answerof  Christianity  to  the  world's  hope,  to  the  aspi- 
ration of  all  souls,  is  this:  "My  grace  is  sufficient 
for  thee."  I  am  inclined  then  to  think  that  this  is 
substantially  Paul's  theology:  Religion  is  doing  right, 
all  the  while,  patiently,  by  the  grace  of  God  in  Jesus 
Christ,  through  Whom  alone  we  can  rise  to  this  su- 
l^reme  realization,  by  Whom  alone  we  can  be  religious. 


Mark  II:  27.    TJie  sahhath  toas  made  for  man,  and 
not  man  for  tlie  sahhath. 


HE  Sabbath  Committee  of  the  Womans'  Christian 
Temperance  Union  desire  the  several  pastors  to 
present  at  this  time  the  all  important  subject  of 
Sabbath  observance.  I  cheerfully  comply  with  this 
request,  and  trust  I  may  be  able  to  Impress  upon  our 
minds  the  vital  interests,  and  the  wide-embracing  duty, 
this  theme  suggests.  I  have  selected,  as  my  text, 
these  words  of  the  Master  that  were  uttered  in  refuta- 
tion of  the  prevalent  Pharasaic  idea  of  the  nature  and 
obligations  of  the  day.  The  discussion  arose  from 
the  act  of  His  disciples,  as  they  went  through  a  field 
of  corn  and  plucked  "the  ears  of  corn  on  the  sabbath 
day."  The  Pharisees,  at  once,  pronounce  it  sin. 
They  denounce  the  Master  and  the  twelve  as  Sabbatli 
breakers.  The  Saviour  does  not  condescend  to  reason 
with  them  at  any  great  length,  in  refutation  of  the 
charge,  but,  having  referred  to  the  example  of  David, 
in  the  days  of  Abiathar,  the  priest— David,  whose 
morals  no  Pharisee  would  call  in  question — the  Master 
asserts  without  qualification  His  absolute  authority: 
"The  Son  of  Man  is  Lord,  also  of  the  sabbath."  It  is 
a  part  of  His  dominion.  It  belongs  to  His  eternal 
Kingship.  As  Lord  of  it,  and  supreme  Master,  He 
announces  this    underlying  and  basilar  principle: 


62 


"The  sabbath  was  made  for  man,  and  not  man  for  the 
sabbath."  The  prevalent  idea  of  the  time  was  that 
man  lived  to  keep  the  Sabbath.  The  Master' s  idea  was 
that  man  kept  the  Sabbath  in  order  to  live. 

The  Sabbath,  as  the  Jew  conceived  it,  was  largely 
ceremonial.  In  the  Master's  thought,  it  was  moral 
and  spiritual.  The  Jew  worshipped  the  shell ;  the 
Master  the  kernel.  The  Jew  knelt  before  a  corpse; 
the  Master  vitalized  the  living  soul.  He  destroyed 
ceremony  ;  He  fulfilled  law.  He  absorbed  the  one; 
He  lived  the  other .  So  both  were  fulfilled,  and  He 
came,  as  He  said,  "not  to  destroy  the  law  but  to 
fulfil."  He  fulfilled  ceremony  by  realizing  and 
actualizing  it;  He  fulfilled  morality  by  living  it.  The 
Sabbath,  as  a  ceremonial  institution,  as  a  fixed  day  of 
the  week  that,  as  to  minutest  and  most  trivial  de- 
tail, must  be  observed  in  a  certain  way,  and  after  a 
cast  iron  pattern,  He  did  away.  So  he  made  Himself 
liable  to  the  accusation  that  he  was  a  Sabbath  breaker. 
He  was,  as  those  accusers  interpreted  the  Sabbath. 
He  did  break  over  and  over,  and  ruthlessly,  and  all  to 
pieces,  the  only  Sabbath  of  which  they  had  any  con- 
ception ;  the  ceremonial,  ritual  Sabbath,  unalterably 
fixed  on  Saturday,  perfunctorily  kept.  As  "Lord  of 
the  sabbath"  He  exploded  that  Sabbath  into  air,  and 
shattered  it  into  fragments.  There  was  nothing  left 
of  it.  It  was  under  the  heel  of  its  "Lord."  But  the 
Sabbath,  as  a  seventh  portion  of  time,  devoted  to  the 
pure  service  of  God,  that  Sabbath  He  ratified  and  con- 
firmed, and  so,  in  the  deepest,  most  vital  sense,  "came 


63 


to  fulfil  the  law."  That  pure,  true  Sabbath  of  rest 
and  service  was  more  sacred  and  more  obligatory 
than  since  the  day  it  was  decreed  on  Sinai,  "Re- 
member the  sabbath  day  to  keep  it  holy."  The 
casket  was  thrown  away,  but  how  brightly  the  jewel 
within  it  shone!  The  scaffolding  was  torn  down, 
but  how  symmetrical  the  building  ! 

The  law  thus  fundamental,  thus  imbedded  in  human 
life,  has  been  changed  in  its  application,  under  the 
new  dispensation,  from  Saturday,  the  day  on  which 
the  Lord  rested  from  all  His  work,  to  Sunday  the  day 
on  which  He  rose  from  the  dead.  Perhaps,  among 
other  reasons,  to  show  that  there  is  nothing  in  the 
day,  and  everything  in  the  principle.  It  was  changed 
as  to  the  day,  almost  unconsciously,  and,  as  it  seems, 
in  recalling  the  historic  fact,  almost  unintentionally 
as  well.  And  yet  the  change  was  ratified  by  the  per- 
sonal presence,  and  sanctioned  by  the  immediate 
blessing  of  our  Lord  who  had  declared  that  He  was 
"Lord  even  of  the  sabbath  day."  The  ten  disciples  are 
met  in  that  upper  room  of  Jerusalem  on  the  first  day 
of  the  week.  It  is  two  days, or,  as  the  Jesus  reckoned 
time,  it  is  the  third  day,  since  their  Lord  was  crucified 
and  buried.  They  meet  to  mingle  their  sympathies 
over  a  dead  faith.  They  have  seen,  as  they  think,  the 
end.  And  they  come  to  mourn  and  lament  over  it. 
Into  their  presence  there  steps,  mysteriously  and  ma- 
jestically, their  risen  Lord.  He  speaks  the  familiar 
word.  They  recognize  it  and  rejoice.  It  is  the  watch- 
word of  Christianity,  on  the  sentinel  line  of  the  ages, 


64 


"peace,"  "peace."  They  meet  the  next  week,  on  the 
same  day,  in  glad  remembrance  of  that  first  day  of  the 
week  when  they  saw  their  Lord.  He  comes  to  them 
again.  He  ratifies  and  confirms  the  act.  And  they 
observe  the  day  ever  after.  They  have  fallen  into  it 
without  intent.  They  have  been  led  directly  by  the 
Spirit  of  God,  and  have  been  attended  by  the  visible 
presence  of  their  risen  and  triumphant  Lord.  Hence- 
forth the  Sabbath  of  the  christian  shall  be  the  Lord's 
Day — no  longer  the  day  He  finished  creation,  but  the 
day  He  sealed  redemption.  It  thus  distinguishes  and 
individualizes  our  christian  faith.  Judaism  observes 
the  seventh  day,  and  thereby  commemorates  the 
material  creation.  Mohammedanism  observes  Friday, 
and  signalizes,  as  it  believes,  the  creation  of  man. 
Christianity  selects,  by  the  appointment  of  its  Lord, 
the  first  day  of  the  week,  and  recalls  the  spiritual 
creation  of  all  souls. 

The  Sabbath,  the  seventh  portion  of  time,  as  thus 
ordained  of  God  from  the  day  He  rested  from  His 
labors— from  the  time  when  it  was  said  "the  Lord 
blessed  the  sabbath  day  and  hallowed  it,"— as  our  Sav- 
iour declares  in  the  text  I  have  selected  "wasmade/or 
man."  It  is  a  means,  not  an  end.  An  instrumental- 
ity, not  an  amulet.  A  chart,  not  a  charm.  The 
question  of  Sabbath  observance,  therefore,  to  which 
our  attention  is  turned  to-day  by  the  Sabbath  Com- 
mittee of  the  W.  C.  T.  U.,  is  a  question  that  pertains 
not  so  much  to  the  Sabbath  as  to  man.  Not  so  much 
to  the  sanctity  of  the  day,  as  to  the  welfare  of  human- 


65 


ity.  As  the  truth  and  the  import  of  our  Saviour's 
words,  the  day  that  is  thus  hallowed  and  set  apart  is 
to  be  observed,  not  for  anjnhing  in  itself,  but  in  order 
to  develop  and  uplift  and  bless  mankind.  The  one 
decisive  issue  then  is,  How  shall  we  make  the  Sabbath 
most  a  blessing  to  those  around  us,  and  most  a  bene- 
diction in  our  own  hearts  and  lives  ?  Every  man  is  to 
answer  that  question  for  himself,  in  the  light  of  his 
own  conscience,  and  before  God.  I  for  myself.  You 
for  yourself.  I  can' t  answer  thai  question  for  you  and 
and  you  can't  answer  it  for  me.  I  can  give  you  my 
ideas,  as  I  propose  to  to-day.  You  might  give  me  yours, 
except  that  I  have  the  advantage  of  you  on  this  occa- 
sion that  I  always  have,  that  I  can  say  what  I  please, 
and  you  can't  say  anything  back.  As  usual,  I  have 
the  floor.  But  neither  you  nor  I  can  dictate  in  this 
matter.  Neither  you  nor  I  can  command.  We  can 
counsel  only,  and  advise.  There  is  no  authority  on 
this  subject  but  conscience,  enlightened  by  Christ. 
Paul  insists  with  vigorous  emphasis  upon  this  view  I 
have  expressed,  as  he  writes  to  the  Colossians:  "Let 
no  man  therefore  judge  you  in  meat,  or  in  drink,  or 
in  respect  of  an  holy  day,  or  of  the  new  moon,  or  of  the 
sabbath  daj-s."  Paul  places  the  Sabbath  in  the  class 
of  questions  that  are  relative,  and  dependent  always 
upon  individual  views,  and  personal  conviction.  The 
class  of  questions,  where  one  has  a  right  to  differ 
from  another,  and  is  just  as  good  a  man  as  though  he 
agreed.  The  fundamental  principle  is  set  before  us, 
clearly  and  distinctly,  and  we  must  exercise  judgment 


66 


and  common  sense  and  wliatdegree  of  grace  God  gives 
us  in  its  application.  The  Sabbath  is  made  for  man. 
We  must  bring  every  question  of  casuistry  and  con- 
science to  this  all  comprehensive,  this  infallible  test. 
There  is  often  too  much  of  the  spirit  that  asks  vpith 
reference  to  each  particular  thing  :  Is  it  right  or  is  it 
wrong  on  Sunday  I  We  ought  to  have  that  intense  hold 
upon  this  principle,  the  seventh  portion  of  time  hal- 
lowed and  set  apart  to  make  us  better  and  purer  and 
more  spiritual,  that  every  question  of  this  character 
would  be  dissolved  in  the  focus  of  its  burning  light. 
This  should  be  always  the  acid  that  Avould  precipitate 
every  perplexed  question,  every  animated  discussion, 
every  vexed  dispute. 

In  the  application  of  this  principle,  that  is  basilar 
and  fundamental,  there  are  three  classes  of  actions, 
about  which,  as  I  have  suggested,  I  will  give  you 
frankly  some  of  my  ideas.  They  may  be  Puritanic. 
But  it  was  the  way  I  was  brought  up.  I  owe  them, 
most  of  all,  to  a  sainted  spirit  who  was  all  a  mother 
could  be  to  me,  who  is  now  in  heaven  keeping  that 
Sabbath  that  know^s  no  end.  The  first  of  these  three 
classes  of  action  are  those  that  render  at  once  impos- 
sible the  end  for  wiiich  the  Sabbath  was  ordained — 
man's  best  welfare,  man's  enlargement  and  spiritual 
growth.  Against  these  we  are  to  set  our  faces  like  a 
flint.  All  secular  business  that  is  not  needful  to  sus- 
tenance and  life  on  the  Sabbath.  Crowding  business 
into  Sunday  by  overwork  on  Saturday,  or  late  hours 
on  Saturday  night.    Travelling  on  Sunday  to  get  to 


67 


business  sooner,  except  over  the  ocean,  where  we 
can't  get  to  business  without.  It  would  hardly  do  to 
stop  mid  seas  on  Sunday.  There  are  certain  kinds  of 
business  that  are  connected  with  special  necessities 
that  are  exceptional.  So  long  as  cows  give  milk  on 
Sunday  I  am  inclined  to  think  it  is  right  to  dispose 
of  it.  I  think  indolence  and  laziness  have  very  much 
to  do  with  Sabbath  breaking.  I  was  delighted  not 
long  ago  when  a  certain  member  of  my  church  had 
the  first  well  day  on  Sunday.  There  is  so  much  Sun- 
day sickness,  the  disease  at  its  height  at  church 
time.  Doctors  are  so  generally  victimized  on  the  first 
day  of  the  week.  Our  mistake  is  fatal  as  it  seems  to 
me  when  we  turn  God's  holy  day  into  man's  holi- 
day, when  we  devote  the  day  to  athletics,  or  to  horse, 
instead  of  to  the  Lord.  Sacred  concerts  are  an  out- 
rage on  our  common  Christianity.  Excursion  trains 
are  as  disorderly,  in  the  sight  of  God,  as  the  drunken 
spree  in  which  they  generally  end.  Manhattan 
Beach  and  Rockaway  are  the  darkest  blot  on  our 
American  civilization.  There  Sabbath  in  Summer  is  a 
pandemonium.  All  the  salt  of  the  sea  whose  surf 
rolls  upon  them  can't  purge  the  gross  iniquity. 

A  second  class  of  actions  involved  in  this  subject 
are  those  that  can  only  be  settled  on  the  ground  of 
expediency,  and  so  as  to  minister  most  effectively  and 
most  surely  to  the  welfare  and  best  interest  of  men. 
To  this  alembic  of  Christian  expediency  we  must 
bring  the  question  of  horse  cars  on  Sunday.  No  more 
work  is  necessitated  thereby  than  to  carry  so  many  of 


68 


the  rich  in  carriages  to  church.  So,  also,  a  limited 
number  of  railroad  trains  ;  the  opening  of  telegraph  of- 
fices and  drug  stores  at  certain  hours;  riding  and  walk 
ing  on  Sunday.  I  think  dinners  ought  to  be  such  as 
will  most  strengthen  us  for  the  duties  and  enjoyment  of 
the  day.  If  cold  dinners  do  not  make  us  amiable  they 
will  not  farther  the  ends  of  the  Sabbath.  Our  read- 
ing should  be  such  as  ministers  most  to  the  best  that  is 
within  us.  If  novels  do  that,  I  have  nothing  to  say, 
except  that  I  am  filled  with  wonder  and  surprise.  The 
morals  of  letter  writing  on  Sunday  depends  on  the 
letters. 

Then  we  have  the  third  class  of  actions  that  directly 
contribute  to  the  great  object  of  the  day  and  that  be- 
come obligatory  wholly  on  that  ground.  Here  we 
place  the  ordinances  and  institutions  of  religion— the 
service  of  the  sanctuary,  and  all  its  attendant  minis- 
try. I  am  old  fashioned  enough  to  believe  that  the 
day  can  not  be  better  spent,  than  by  faithful,  habitual 
attendance  upon  them  all.  If  the  preaching  isn't  good 
enough,  get  rid  of  the  preacher,  and  have  better.  But 
hear  the  preaching,  such  as  it  is.  "Forsake  not  the 
assembling  of  yourselves  together." 

And  as  the  climax  of  this  subject  to-day  I  desire  to 
assert,  with  all  possible  emphasis,  impelled  by  a  spirit 
inherited  from  our  Pilgrim  fathers,  the  right  and  the 
prerogative  of  this  American  republic,  to  which  I  es- 
teem it  the  highest  civil  honor  of  man  to  belong,  to 
stand  immoveably  and  adamantine,  as  a  bulwark  and 
defense  of  the  christian  Sabbath  among  the  nations  of 


fi9 


the  earth.  As  a  christian  nation,  founded  in  prayer, 
cemented  by  pious  blood,  we  have  a  supreme  right,  an 
imperative  obligation,  to  enforce  all  wise  and  salutary 
Sabbath  laws.  If  German  infidels  or  native-born  atheists 
don't  like  it  they  can  leave  the  country,  and  we  will 
count  ourselves  happy  to  endure  the  separation.  I 
would  like  to  see  an  immense  tide  of  emigration  set- 
ting the  other  way.  It  would  pay  to  furnish  a  whole 
flotilla  of  ships.  I  believe  the  day  of  visitation  is  com- 
ing to  continental  Europe  for  her  disregard,  and  her 
gross  violation,  of  the  Sabbath.  The  anathemas  and 
the  denunciations  of  holy  writ  gather  like  clouds  to 
break  with  thunderbolt  and  lightning's  flash  over  their 
heads.  May  God  preserve  this  American  republic 
from  the  pestilence  and  fatal  miasms  of  a  continental 
Sabbath,  that  is  a  continental  sham; — a  stone  where 
humanity  asks  bread.  Against  cholera  and  yellow 
fever  we  establish  strictest  quarantine.  We  keep 
them  successfully  from  our  shores.  We  preserve  the 
nation  intact.  The  anti-Sabbatism  of  Germany  and 
France  is  a  more  destroying  contagion — a  more  blasting 
epidemic  of  desolation  and  death.  It  has  plunged 
those  great  peoples  into  infidelity  and  godlessness. 
As  this  American  republic  inherits  the  spirit  of  other 
days,  as  we  are  true  to  the  faith  of  our  fathers,  we 
will  establish  strictest  quarantine,  we  will  stay  the  fa- 
tal contagion,  and  say  to  this  mighty,  this  inrushing, 
this  destroying,  tide:  "Hitherto  shalt  thou  come  and 
no  farther,  and  here  shall  thy  proud  waves  be 
stayed." 


J  ehovah. 


HE  Jews  of  old  liad  a  somewliat  peculiar,  and,  in 
many  respects,  an  abnormal,  view  of  God.  So  far 
as  we  may  be  able  to  analyze  the  idea  they  enter- 
tained it  was  about  this:  He  was  a  very  large  man, 
sitting  on  a  very  lofty  throne,  sending  His  angels  as 
His  messengers  to  do  His  bidding,  wielding  a  sceptre 
of  resistless  dominion,  and  unai^proachable  in  His 
stern  majesty  and  His  exalted  greatness.  When  they 
came  to  His  name  in  their  Bibles,  they  passed  it  over 
in  silence  with  a  reverential  pause,  afraid  to  offend 
that  strange  and  mysterious  Being  by  its  pronuncia- 
tion. They  ascribed  to  Him  bodily  parts  like  their 
own,  and  supposed  Him  to  be  busy  opening  windows 
in  heaven  to  let  it  rain,  getting  the  sun  up  in  the 
morning,  and  lighting  the  stars,  as  so  many  lamps,  at 
night.  They  supposed  Him  to  be  susceptible  of  very 
weak  and  childish  passions.  Who  made  mistakes  and 
was  sorry  afterward  and  cried;  Who  could  love  a  man 
like  Jacob  with  all  his  tergiversations,  because  he  was 
Abraham's  grandson;  Who  intended  great  things  for 
the  people  He  had  chosen,  and  proposed  to  compass 
the  destruction  of  everybody  else.  These  were  some 
of  their  misconceptions  and  distortions  of  the  divine 
nature,  and  a  few  of  their  prevailing  ideas  of  God. 


71 


But  side  by  side  with  these  national  perversions, 
these  characteristic  mistakes,  about  God,  the  Jewish 
mind  laid  firm  hold  of  one  idea  that  was  at  the  bot- 
tom of  all  their  thinking,  that  distinguished  their 
view  of  divinity  from  that  of  the  sister  nations  around 
them,  and  which  was  inherently,  deeply  true — which 
was  indeed  fundamental  to  all  truth  upon  this  vital 
and  all  important  theme.  That  idea,  characterizing 
all  their  thought,  the  basis  of  all  their  conclusions 
upon  this  subject,  was  of  the  oneness,  the  singleness, 
of  Deity.  AVhatever  misconceptions  they  entertained, 
whatever  the  perversions  that  might  characterize  their 
theology,  there  is  no  room  for  doubt  that  the  Jewish 
race  was  thoroughly  and  sincerely  monotheistic. 
They  believed,  as  a  nation,  and  as  long  as  the  nation 
lasted— they  believe  as  a  race  to-day  wherever  that 
race  extends — in  one  God.  And  their  idea  of  the  unity 
of  God  was  based  lapon  the  reality,  and  the  absolute 
necessity,  of  His  nature;  upon  the  inherent  demands 
of  His  being.  Because  He  was  what  He  was,  He  must 
be  One. 

This  pervading  and  underlying  thought,  this  under- 
current of  all  their  ideas  about  God,  wa  clearly  and 
forcibly  expressed  in  the  name  they  ascribed  to  Deity 
and  that  they  held  in  such  exalted  reverence,  that 
they  passed  it  over  in  silence  when  they  read  the  law, 
regarding  its  utterance  too  sacred  for  human  lips.  In 
contrast  with  the  names  given  by  other  nationalities 
to  the  gods  they  worshijjped,  names  that  denoted  no 
more  than  their  distinctive  individuality,  as  do  the 


72 


names  we  give  to  men,  the  word  the  Jew  employed 
was,  in  its  derivation  and  in  its  composition,  descrii)- 
tive  of  absolute  and  supreme  existence  It  meant  the 
Only  Living  One.  It  is  a  word  that  wisest  orientalist 
to-day  knows  not  how  to  pronounce.  And  because  it 
was  never  intended  by  pious  Jew  to  be  pronounced;  by 
the  Jew,  who  employed  it,  never  was.  As  nearly  as 
we  know  the  strange  and  mystic  word  that  he  held  in 
such  reverential  awe,  it  is  the  four  letters  y,  h,  v,  h 
— sometimes  pronounced  Yahveh,  or  Yehveh;  in  our 
Bibles,  Jehovah;  but,  as  a  fact,  excluding  pronuncia- 
tion as  an  impossibility .  A  word  that,  in  the  pious 
thought  of  the  Jew,  should  go  down  through  the  ages, 
the  unutterable,  because  the  unpronounceable,  word, 
— Yhvh.  And  yet,  in  that  mysterious  word,  there  lay 
hidden  the  truth  of  which  I  have  spoken,  that  was  at 
the  basis  of  all  the  Jewish  ideas  of  Grod,  of  absolute, 
supreme  existence — existence  that  in  its  nature  must 
be  single  and  alone — tlie  one  God.  It  was  the  combi- 
nation of  the  past,  present  and  future  tenses  of  the 
verb  "to  be" — put,  as  far  as  it  was  possible  to  do  it, 
in  one  word;  thus  combined  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
possible  pronunciation.  Wherever,  in  the  Hebrew 
scriptures,  the  word  occurs,  it  means,  therefore,  the 
was,  the  is,  the  is  to  be;  that  Being  who  alone  can  say 
of  all  the  eternity  past,  "I  was;"  of  the  universal 
present,  "lam;"  of  the  eternity  in  the  future,  "I 
shall  be;"  that  Being  who,  as  the  Jew  expressed  it  in 
the  word  he  employed,  is  "the  same  yesterday,  and 
to  day  and  forever." 


73 


By  that  name,  by  the  conception  it  carries  within 
it,  we  most  truly  exalt  and  honor  God.  As  we  think 
of  Him  as  the  absolutely  and  supremely  and  solely 
existing  One — who  alone  in  all  this  universe  eternally 
was,  everywhere  is,  forever  s/iallhe.  For,  in  the  final 
analysis,  this  was  not  simply  a  Jewish  thought,  or  a 
Hebrew  conception.  It  was  put  supernaturally  into 
the  Jewish  mind  by  direct  revelation  from  Him  Whose 
name  it  is.  Whose  nature  it  describes,  Whose  being  it 
suggests  to  our  thought.  So  we  read:  "God  spake 
unto  Moses,  and  said  unto  him,  I  am  the  Lord; 
and  I  appeared  unto  Abraham,  and  Isaac,  and  unto 
Jacob,  by  the  name  God  Almighty,  but  by  my  name 
Yhvh  was  I  not  known  to  them."  Henceforth,  by 
that  name,  announced  to  his  servant  Moses,  he  shall 
be  known.  By  that  name,  in  its  abbreviated  form,  yet 
centering  in  the  same  truth,  and  expressing  the  same 
fact  of  absolute  existence,  we  are  enjoined,  to  "extol 
Him."  As  thus  conceived,  and  as  we  thus  contemplate 
His  exalted  nature,  the  supremely  and  absolutely  ex- 
isting One  is  worthy  of  our  praise  and  He  alone  ! 
The  Being  to  whom  that  name  can  be  applied,  com- 
posed of  the  three  parts  of  the  verb  "to  be,"  that 
Being  who  was,  is,  and  shall  be,  and  He  alone,  is  God. 

Take  His  material  handiwork,  the  physical  uni- 
verse, or  the  orders  of  the  brute  creation,  and  how  are 
they  dwarfed  into  insignificance  before  the  gigantic 
proportions  of  that  incommunicable  word.  Of  these 
heavens  spread  over  us  as  a  span,  of  the  rolling 
spheres  and  the  central  suns,  of  the  beautiful  lands- 


74 


cape  and  the  flowing  rivers  and  the  deep  blae  sea,  of 
all  these  we  must  say,  looking  back  into  the  far  off 
past,  they  were  not ;  looking  into  the  future  when 
"  the  heavens  shall  be  rolled  together  as  a  scroll  and 
the  elements  shall  melt  with  fervent  heat,"  when 
suns  shall  rise  and  set,  and  moons  shall  wax  and 
wane,  no  more,  we  are  compelled  to  say,  these  shall 
not  he.  There  is  only  left  to  these  the  present  tense — 
they  are.  They  were  not ;  they  are ;  tl-iey  will  not 
be. 

When  we  rise  to  the  sphere  of  the  human,  then  a 
second  of  those  three  parts  is  added.  Gfod  has 
breathed  into  man's  nostrils  "  the  breath  of  life" — -an 
effluence  of  His  own  immortality,  and,  although  man 
a  little  while  ago  was  not,  he  now  is,  and  he,  in  all 
the  future,  shall  be.  We  rise  from  the  human  to  the 
divine,  we  come  at  last  to  God,  when  we  put  the  three 
forms  together,  and,  applying  that  unpronounceable 
word  of  the  Jew,  think  of  this  Being  who  reigns 
above  us  as  He  of  Whom  alone  in  all  this  universe  it 
can  be  said  that,  in  eternity  past,  he  was  ;  in  the  uni- 
versal present,  he  is  ;  in  the  eternity  to  come,  he  shall 
be,  Yhvh — the  was,  the  is,  the  is  to  be. 

In  our  thoughts  of  God,  as  we  "extol  Him"  by  His 
own  chosen  name,  we  go  back  in  our  imagination  to 
the  remotest  past.  We  are  thinking  of  a  pei'iod  be- 
fore man,  for  the  fi(St  time,  trod  the  garden:  before 
the  mountains  were  brought  forth  or  ever  had  been 
formed  the  earth  and  the  world  ;  before  yonder  sun 
was  set  in  his  place  or  the  orbs  of  night  commanded 


75 


to  shine  ;  before  this  vast  universe  was  spoken  into 
being  or  chaos  called  into  order,  or  blank  space  ani- 
mated with  life  ;  before  song  of  archangel  was  ever 
heard  in  heaven  ;  before  cherubim  and  seraphim 
awoke  into  the  consciousness  of  the  effulgent  light ; 
before  a  created  spirit  ever  soared  in  divine  contem- 
plation or  winged  it  to  its  flight  amid  the  illimitable 
spaces ;  and,  in  that  universal  solitude,  in  that 
august  and  sublime  loneliness,  amid  the  uninhabited 
realms  and  the  silent  abysses,  there  was  God.  There, 
in  that  solitude,  forever  in  the  past,  where  our 
thought  can  go  no  further,  or  our  feeble  conceptions 
aid  us  in  our  search.  Standing  before  that  reality  of 
the  ages  untold  and  unnumbered  that  lie  in  that  ex- 
haustless  depth,  we  exclaim:  "Who,  by  searching 
can  tind  out  God,  or  know  the  Almighty  to  perfec- 
tion V '  We  can  only  use  the  first  part  of  the  verb 
that  constitutes  His  name  and  say,  where  our  thought 
is  baffled  and  our  conception  a  blank,  only  this : 
"  God  was.'''' 

We  pass  on  in  our  thought,  and  remember- 
ing His  chosen  name,  by  which  we  would  "extol 
Him,"  we  think  of  the  boundless  and  limitless  present. 
Of  the  mighty  spaces  of  this  vast  universe,  through 
which  the  myriad  solar  systems,  vaster  and  more  ex- 
tended than  our  own,  are  moving  with  measured 
tread ;  through  the  empyrean  of  which  the  comets, 
with  their  trails  measured  in  the  thousands  of  mil- 
lions, shoot  and  thwart  and  dash  madly  on  by  quad- 
rillions of  miles  per  hour  :  through  which  the  light 


76 


Claris,  with  its  swift  pinion,  and  yet  requires  millions 
upon  millions  of  years  to  reach  from  one  rela- 
tively minute  section  of  this  universe  to  another,  as 
from  one  township  to  another  on  this  continent  of 
earth  ;  and,  overwhelmed  Avith  the  vastness  of  the 
present,  we  know  that  everywhere,  amid  all  these 
illimilable  spaces,  the  second  part  of  the  verb  we  are 
using  applies,  and  "  God  is  "  AVe  look  into  these 
exhaustless  depths  and  we  say  with  the  psalmist  : 
""Whither  shall  I  tlee  from  tiiy  jiresence  l  and  whith- 
er shall  I  go  from  thy  sjDirit  \  If  I  ascend  into  heaven 
thou  art  there  ;  if  I  make  my  bed  in  hell,  lo,  thou  art 
there  ;  if  I  take  the  wings  of  the  morning  and  dwell 
in  tlie  uttermost  parts  of  the  sea,"  nay,  soar  to  the 
utmost  boundaries  of  unbounded  space  — "even  there 
shall  thy  hand  lead  me  and  thy  right  hand  shall  hold 
me."  Everywhere,  through  all  this  boundless  uni- 
verse, "  God  isy 

And  then,  in  our  thought,  we  try  for  a  moment  to 
glance  into  the  future.  To  think  of  that  eternity  far 
ahead,  when  the  earth  and  all  that  is  therein  shall 
have  been  burned  up  ;  when  all  these  forms  of  mater- 
ial existence  shall  have  passed  away  ;  when  comets 
shall  shoot  athwart  the  heavens,  and  rolling  suns 
shall  shine,  and  planets  move  in  their  orbits,  no  more; 
when  only  immortal  spirits  shall  inhabit  the  mighty 
si)aces  ;  and  we  see,  amid  that  glory,  One  sitting  up- 
on the  throne,  clothed  in  light,  and  worshipped  of 
every  order  of  being ;  we  look  ui)on  His  face,  and  it 
is  our,  and  our  father's,  God.    We  add  the  final  part 


77 


of  the  verb — He  who  "was,"  who  "is,"  is  He  who 
forever   shall  5e." 

Our  thouglit,  so  far  as  we  can  compass  it,  is  com- 
plete. We  have  found  absolute  existence.  We  have 
studied  the  old  Jewish  nomenclature,  and  we  have 
discovered  the  divine — borne  to  us  upon  the  bosom  of 
that  incommunicable  name.  By  that  name,  then,  we 
will  "extol  Him  that  rideth  upon  the  heavens,"  and 
we  will  "rejoice  before  him." 

The  form  of  the  word  that  is  often  employed  in  the 
present  tense— the  "I  am"  adds  to  the  Jewish  con- 
ception of  absolute  and  eternal  existence — beins:  in  it- 
self— the  "was,"  the  "is,"  the  "is  to  be,"  two  ad- 
ditional thoughts,  by  which,  if  we  can,  in  any  meas- 
ure, attain  to  their  exalted  reach,  we  shall  thereby 
"extol"  God.  For  nothing  praises  God  so  truly  as 
true  thoughts  about  Him .  The  sweetest  anthems  of 
praise  tliat  rise  to  the  throne  are  correct  conceptions 
in  the  minds  of  those  who  love  and  worship  and 
adore. 

The  first  of  the  two  thoughts,  then,  suggested  by 
this  present  form  of  the  verb — his  name  "I  am" — is 
that  He  who  has  existed  in  the  eternity  past  and 
who  will  continue  to  be  in  the  eternity  future,  lives 
in  an  ever  present,  an  eternal,  now.  That  period  in 
the  remote  past,  before  the  first  immortal  spirit 
basked  in  the  sunlight  of  a  new  born  life  ;  that  period 
in  the  far  off  future,  when  only  spirits  shall  people 
this  vast  universe  and  all  that  is  material  and  perish- 
able shall  have  passed  away;  both  are  present  to  the 


78 


mind  of  the  Almighty,  in  whose  thought  time  is 
eliminated,  and  the  succession  of  days  and  months 
and  years  are  no  more.  He  is  the  "I  am."  Exist- 
ing in  an  eternal  present ;  all  events  and  beings  and 
things  pass  before  Him  in  an  unchanging  now — a 
thousand  years  with  him  as  one  day,  and  one  day  as 
a  thousand  years. 

The  second  thought  embodied  in  the  present  form 
of  this  verb  of  absolute  existence,  is  that  God  is  im- 
mediately present,  in  the  exercise  of  His  power,  in 
the  control  of  His  wisdom,  in  the  unfolding  of  His 
love,  in  every  event  that  occurs  in  all  this  universe, 
in  every  purpose  that  is  formed,  in  every  movement 
that  is  made,  in  every  deed  that  is  done.  Of  each 
alike,  from  the  minutest  modification  of  the  molecule 
to  the  mightiest  impact  of  the  vastest  suns,  the  I  Am 
is  the  power  within  and  behind  it  that  moves  to 
action,  and  that  controls  and  sways. 

In  addition  then  to  the  conception  of  absolute  and 
supreme  existence,  these  are  the  supplemental 
thoughts  embodied  in  the  name  I  Am,  by  which  we 
would  "extol"  Him,  that  every  event  in  eternity 
past,  every  issue  in  eternity  future,  is  now  present 
before  the  mind  of  the  Almighty,  and  that,  in  every 
event,  He  is  the  controlling  j^ower,  the  primal  effici- 
ency, the  great  First  Cause.  In  that  eternal  now  in 
which  the  I  Am  dwelleth  He  is  acting  through  all 
events  and  beings  and  things.  All  are  the  vehicles  of 
His  power  ;  all  are  the  channels  of  His  action. 

And  here,  in  the  light  of  this  thought,  it  seems  to 


79 


me,  there  is  a  gleam  cast  upon  the  darkness  of  the 
mystery  of  election  and  divine  sovereignty.  There 
is  no  such  thing  as  /preordination  with  God.  That  is 
man's  way  of  putting  it.  With  God  there  is  no  be- 
fore and  no  after.  In  one  eternal  present  He  ordains 
the  supreme  fruition  of  every  creature  of  His  hand. 
He  does  not  stand  in  a  far  off  past,  and,  looking  into 
the  distant  future,  when  man  should  live  upon  the 
earth,  say  arbitrarily  and  tyranically,  "  Damn  that 
one,"  "Save  that  one;"  "Cast  those  into  hell," 
"Take  those  up  into  heaven."  But,  m  the  eternal 
present — the  unchanging  now — in  which  He  dwells, 
He  IS  prompting  every  created  spirit,  from  Adam  in 
Eden  to  the  latest  child  of  man,  to  seek  the  good,  and 
to  share  its  sure  rewards.  He  is,  in  present  action, 
ordaining  every  immorta^l  soul  to  immortal  life. 
By  the  influence  of  His  indwelling  spirit,  through  the 
blood  of  His  only  begotten  Son,  that,  in  that  eternal 
present,  He  now  sees  flowing,  the  I  Am,  acting  in  and 
through  us  all,  does  by  His  power,  save  us  all — "if." 
And  there  comes  the  terrible  alternative,  an  alterna- 
tive that  would  not  arise  were  w^e  not  free,  did  we 
obey  as  the  morning  stars  obey,  or  as  the  cattle  up- 
on the  thousand  hills,  but  the  alternative  that  mates 
our  freedom  and  responsibility,  if  we  do  not  prevent 
Him  by  our  rebellion,  our  obduracy  and  our  sin. 

I  may  be  able  to  impress  this  thought  that  flows 
from  that  wonderful  name  by  analogy.  The  I  Am — 
immediately  present,  immediately  acting,  feeds  our 
bodies.  How  does  He  doit  ?  He  gives  us  the  organs  of 


80 


digestion.  He  i^uts  into  us  the  desire  of  hunger. 
He  sets  before  us  tile  food.  He  gives  us  the  will  to 
act.  And  that  is  the  end  of  His  power.  He  can't 
make  us  eat.  That  is  the  sole  impossibility  in  all 
this  universe  to  compel  the  sjiirit  who  is  free.  It  is 
with  us,  wholly  with  us,  whether,  with  the  desire  of 
hunger  within  us,  possessed  of  the  organs  of  diges- 
tion, having  within  our  reach  the  food,  whether  we 
will  eat.  And  so  the  I  Am,  immediately  present, 
immediately  acting,  in  vital  intercourse  with  every 
immortal  soul,  proposes  to  feed  the  immortal  part, 
elects  unto  everlasting  life  every  living  spirit.  He 
puts  within  us  the  power  of  soul  digestion,  the 
capacity  to  be  saved.  He  implants  the  longing  for 
immortality,  the  soul's  hunger,  the  desire  to  be 
saved.  He  sets  before  us  the  soul's  food,  salvation 
in  Jesus  Christ.  He  gives  us  the  power  to  take  it 
and  live.  And  there  lies  the  boundary  to  His  power. 
He  can't  make  us  eat  the  heavenly  food.  He  will  do 
all  but  that.  That  must  remain  with  us.  The  final 
issue  is  imbedded  deep  down  in  our  own  hearts, 
where  the  eternities  lie  open.  God  will  feed  us,  if 
we  will  eat.    He  will  save  us,  if  we  will  let  him. 

Carrying  with  us,  into  our  daily  lives,  the  thought 
of  such  a  Grod,  shall  we  not  "  work  out  (our)  own  sal- 
vation with  fear  and  trembling?  "  Shall  we  not  par- 
take the  heavenly  food,  and  share  heaven's  unfailing 
bounty,  encouraged  by  this  remembrance,  that  He 
who  is  the  "  I  Am,"  the  eternally  present  and  the 
eternally  acting  One,  "  worketh  in  us  to  will  and  to 
do  of  His  good  pleasure  ? " 


Ezek.  XYIIl :  3.  As  I  live,  saitJi  the  Lord  God,  ye 
shall  not  have  occasion  any  more  to  use  this 
proverb  in  Israel. 

HE  proverb  that  would  be  some  day  out  of  date 
was  one  that  in  varied  forms  of  expression  has 
been  prevalent  in  every  age.  It  is  a  species 
of  heterodoxy  that  has  come  down  from  the  time  of 
Adam.  T  suppose  his  sons  and  daughters  adopted  it 
whenever  they  got  into  trouble.  Cain,  perhaps,  when 
his  conscience  smote  him  about  Abel.  It  is  the  old 
familiar  tendency  to  throw  the  load  of  our  guilt  and 
the  burden  of  our  iniquity  back  upon  the  afflicted 
shoulders  of  our  fathers,  and  to  ascribe  all  our  dark 
spots  and  blemishes  to  a  remote  ancestry.  In  the 
time  of  the  prophet  Ezekiel  this  form  of  heterodoxy 
had  been  gathered  into  a  proverb  that  was  on  every 
tongue:  "The  fathers  have  eaten  sour  grapes,  and  the 
children's  teeth  are  set  on  edge."  Like  all  familiar 
errors,  this  old  saying  of  Ezekiel' s  time,  this  kind  of 
household  word,  with  all  its  heresy,  was  based  on  a 
minute  modicum  of  truth.  It  would  be  difficult,  in- 
deed, to  find  a  heresy  that  is  not.  Even  christian 
science,  the  extreme  absurdity  of  our  day,  that  has 
gone  up  like  a  rocket  and  come  down  like  a  stick,  has 
underneath  it  the  truth  that  nobody  ever  doubted,  or 
ever  called  in  question,  that  the  mind  has  a  jjositive 


82 


and  controlling  effect  on  the  body.  That  many  times 
we  are  sicker  than  we  otherwise  would  be,  because  we 
think  we  are.  And  that  often  we  get  well,  because 
we  are  bound  we  will.  So  of  any  prevalent  error,  or 
heresy,  however  rash  or  absurd  its  tenets  may  be.  At 
their  centre  there  is  generally  a  kernel  of  truth.  The 
apple  may  be  thoroughly  rotten,  but  there  is  one  good 
seed  at  the  core.  So  of  this  heresy  of  nearly  2,500 
years  ago.  When  they  used  to  complain:  "The 
fathers  have  eaten  sour  grapes,  and  the  children's 
teeth  are  set  on  edge"  they  were  turning  into  a  false- 
hood, as  palpable  as  the  joke,  a  world-wide  and  an  ir- 
reversible truth.  It  is  the  fact  of  all  experience  that 
"the  sins  of  the  fathers"  are  visited  "upon  the  children 
unto  the  third  and  fourth  generation."  As  the  invar- 
iable record  of  humanity,  the  changeless  experience 
of  the  race,  the  faults  of  their  fathers,  in  their  inevi- 
table effects,  their  baneful  and  blasting  results,  go 
down  to  their  children .  But  the  perversion  of  this 
truth  is  in  the  implication  of  the  proverb  that  the 
children  suffer  the  punishment,  bear  the  penalty,  of 
their  father's  sin.  That,  in  the  scourgings  of  the  di- 
vine hand,  the  children  are  whipped  for  what  the 
fathers  do.  The  penalty  for  eating  sour  grapes  is  the 
setting  the  teeth  on  edge.  That  is  the  physical  pun- 
ishment. According  to  this  old  time  proverb,  the 
fathers  do  the  eating,  and  the  children  do  the  tooth- 
aching.  That  is,  the  children  bear  the  penalty  their 
fathers  ought  to  bear;  are  punished  for  what  their 
fathers  do.  And  that  isn't  so.  It  was  not  so  in  Ezek- 


83 


iel's  time.  And  it  is  not  in  any  other.  The  state- 
ment is  a  heresy,  and  a  lie.  The  fathers,  by  eating 
sour  grapes,  may  get  the  children  into  a  habit  of  doing 
the  same  things,  or  may  transmit  to  them  tendencies 
to  do  it,  they  may  get  it  into  the  blood,  but  the  chil- 
dren's teeth  will  never  be  set  on  edge  unless  they  eat 
sour  grapes  themselves.  You  see  the  distinction  do 
you  not  between  the  truth  of  inherited  tendencies, 
transmitted  qualities  from  father  to  son,  and  the  per- 
version of  this  proverb  of  transferred  punishment 
and  actual  sutfering  of  the  penalty  of  guilt  incurred 
in  other  hearts  and  lives  1  We  say  a  father  eats 
poison,  that  that  poison,  though  extracted  before  it 
proved  fatal,  has  injured  his  system,  that  the  ini'ury 
to  his  system  goes  down  to  his  sons  in  impairment 
and  injury.  But  that  is  a  very  different  thing  from  the 
statement,  analogous  to  this  heretical  maxim  of  the 
ancients,  that  a  father  eats  poison  and  his  son  dies. 
He  don't  die.  And  he  never  will  unless  he  takes  the 
poison  too.  A  father  may  commit  murder  and  be 
hung  or  electrified,  and  hand  down  to  his  children  a 
name  covered  with  disgrace  and  a  heritage  of  dishonor. 
But  that  is  not  by  any  means  to  say  that  a  father  may 
commit  murder,  and,  in  a  moment,  his  son  be  hung. 
A  father  may  drink  to  excess,  and  transmit  tenden- 
cies and  appetites  to  his  son  that  it  will  take  a  life- 
time to  conquer.  But  it  never  occurs  that  a  father 
drinks  the  liquor  and  the  son  does  the  getting  drunk. 
A  father  may  leap  over  a  precipice,  or  into  a  fire,  a 
son  may  be  almost  impelled  by  the  force  of  the  ex- 


84 


ample,  iu  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  to  follow  his 
father  and  take  the  same  fatal  leap,  bat  it  will  never 
be  true  that  the  father  does  the  jumping  and  the  son 
has  the  broken  bones  or  the  scars. 

This  maxim  of  twenty-five  centuries  ago 
was  applied  at  that  time  to  the  condition 
of  Israel  in  its  apostasy  and  decline.  The 
theory  was  that  because  their  forefathers,  gene- 
rations before,  ate  the  sour  grapes  of  rebellion  and  of 
high  handed  crime,  the  "children's  teeth  were  set  on 
edge"  in  banishment  and  exile.  That  the  children 
were  bearing  the  penalty  of  their  fathers'  sins.  That 
the  punishment  was  visited  on  their  heads.  It  wasn't 
so.  It  looked  so,  perhaps,  on  the  surface.  For  there 
were  the  two  factors.  The  abominable  coui'ses,  the 
wicked  ways,  the  unrestrained  vices,  of  their  fathers. 
There  was  do  doubt  about  that.  And  then  there  was 
their  present  condition.  They  were  in  exile  and  ban- 
ishment. That  was  a  manifest  fact.  But  the  heresy 
— the  error  into  which  they  fell — was  when  they  con- 
nected these  two  facts  in  the  relation  of  cause  and 
effect,  and  reasoned  that  the  one  was  the  result,  the 
penalty,  of  the  other.  As  though  we  should  find  one 
sick  of  yellow  fever  in  Jacksonville,  Florida, 
and  another  of  consumption  in  Montreal,  and  should 
say  that  the  consumption  in  Montreal  was  caught 
from  the  yellow  fever  in  Jacksonville.  Two  facts 
may  be  facts  and  not  causes  or  effects.  So  there  was 
nothing  the  matter  with  the  facts  when  tnis  proverb 
had   its    origin.    They    were  indisputable.  Their 


85 


fathers  were  a  disgrace  to  humanity.  And  the  sons 
were  in  a  horrible  condition.  Bat  their  philosophy 
was  all  wrong.  The  one  was  not  gallows  on  which  the 
criminals  of  other  days  were  hung  by  proxy.  Not 
the  stocks  or  the  pillory  where  other  feet  or  necks  were 
fastened.  Not  the  setting  of  teeth  on  edge  for  other 
people's  mastication  of  acrid  fiiiit.  If  they,  the  sons, 
had  done  right,  they  wouldn't  suffer.  All  the  denun- 
ciations God  had  pronounced  upon  the  descendants 
of  those  outrageous  fathers  were  carried  into  execu- 
tion because  those  descendants  were  just  as  bad  as, 
and,  as  a  general  thing  a  great  deal  woise  than,  their 
ancestors.  Iniquity  and  crime  had  accumulated  with 
the  years.  Their  teeth  were  tested,  because  they  de, 
served  it.  That  was  all.  Tl-ie  correct  theology  on  this 
question,  I  am  inclined  to  think  is  about  this.  The 
practice  of  eating  sour  grapes  on  the  part  of  the 
fathers  is  a  very  unfortunate  and  a  very  dangerous 
thing.  It  makes  the  children  unhealty.  It  inclines 
them  to  eat  them.  But  the  children's  teeth  will  never 
be  set  on  edge  if  the  process  stops  with  the  conduct  of 
the  fathers.  If  the  children  do  not  eat,  in  the  domain 
of  morals,  they  will  have  no  use  for  a  dentist.  Their 
teeth  will  be  all  right,  if  they  let  the  grapes  alone. 

We  may  apply  this  principle  to  bodily  and  physical 
influences,  transmitted  from  generation  to  generation, 
inherited  with  the  blood.  When  the  fathers  eat 
sour  grapes,  are  guilty  of  sins  against  the  body,  of 
excess  or  indulgence,  their  indiscretions  and  their  ex- 
cesses injure  and  harm  the  children,  become  an  inher- 


86 


itaiice  of  calamity  and  disease  and  death.  So  the  na- 
tions and  races  of  the  past  have  gone  into  decline.  The 
fathers  have  eaten  sour  grapes,  they  have  transmitted 
the  habit  to  their  children,  the  children  have  adopted 
the  same  diet  more  gluttonously  and  more  ravenously, 
and  the  accumulated  burden  of  physical  sins,  of  vio- 
lation of  physical  laws,  has  rested  more  and  more 
heavily  upon  them,  until,  in  their  enfeeblement  and 
decline,  stronger  races  have  usurped  their  supremacy, 
those  of  purer,  more  wholesome  blood  have  come 
upon  them,  and,  in  the  inevitable  law  of  the  survival 
of  the  fittest,  the  debilitated  and  the  reduced  by  phys- 
ical excesses  have  gone  to  the  wall,  and  the  nations  of 
nobler  parentage  and  purer  ancestry  have  supjjlanted 
them  and  taken  their  place.  So  it  was  with  the  em- 
pire of  Rome,  in  the  days  of  her  sad  decline.  The 
excesses  of  the  past,  the  transmitted  tendencies  to  ex- 
cess iu  those  later  days,  these  sour  grapes  of  which 
the  fathers  ate,  and  the  children  still  more  abundantly, 
set  their  teeth  on  edge,  were  the  ruin  and  downfall  of 
the  empire.  Those  manlier,  athletic  nations  of  the 
north  swept  everything  before  them,  and  the  purer 
blood  that  coursed  in  their  veins  washed  out  in  obli- 
vion the  tainted  and  the  impure  inheritance  from  the 
excesses  and  the  indulgences  of  the  past.  And  yet, 
as  a  truth  of  philosophy  and  of  history  as  well,  we 
mistake  and  we  misinterpret  the  ways  of  God,  if  we 
do  not  remember  that  all  this  follows  not  because  the 
fathers,  but  because  the  children  after  them,  follow- 
ing their  example,  falling  into  wilder  excesses,  plung- 


87 


ing  into  grosser  indulgence?,  have  eaten  sour  grapes. 
Therefore,  and  therefore  only,  the  children's  teeth  are 
set  on  edge.  If  the  children  surmount  these  adverse 
influences,  if  the  children,  in  stalwart  purpose,  in  res- 
olute decision,  cease  these  excesses,  their  teeth  will  be 
all  right.  On  their  unfavorable  inheritance  from  the 
habits  of  their  fathers,  as  stepping  stones,  they  may 
mount  to  nobler  achievement,  and  to  grander  and 
more  heroic  endeavor. 

So  of  the  sour  grapes  of  false  theories  in  philosophy, 
and  erroneous  ideas  in  religion.  If  the  fathers  are 
all  twisted  and  awry  on  these  things,  they  transmit  a 
fearful  inheritance  to  their  children.  And  if  the 
children  accept  the  inheritance  and,  m  sujjine  indiffer- 
ence, think  as  their  fathers  think,  and  swallow  whole 
their  philosophy— keep  eating  the  sour  grapes — their 
teeth  will  be  set  on  edge.  But  if,  at  any  point, 
the  children  decline  the  process,  and  revolt  from  the 
dark  inheritance,  if  they  seek  earnestly  after  truth, 
if  they  inquire  humbly  at  the  gates  of  wisdom,  stand- 
ing at  the  portals  of  her  doors,  nobody's  teeth  will  be 
set  on  edge,  the  perils  of  the  past  will  be  averted,  and 
they  will  rise,  in  triumphant  ascension,  from  the  bur- 
den of  a  calamitous  ancestry,  from  the  curse  of  here- 
tical fathers  or  unorthodox  mothers,  from  the  bane  of 
error  and  falsehood  that  inhere  sometimes  so  tena- 
ciously in  the  inmost  content  of  the  blood. 

And  all  that  has  been  said  applies  with  especial  and 
peculiar  force  to  our  Calvanistic  doctrine  of  original  sin. 
It  would  have  been  a  blessed  thing  for  you  and  me  if 


88 


Adam  and  Eve  had  not  commenced  the  x)rocess,  six 
thousand  years  ago,  of  eating  sour  grapes,  if  thej'  had 
not  introduced  into  our  race  the  habit  of  doing  wrong. 
It  would  be  immensely  to  our  advantage,  if  our  inter- 
vening ancestry,  from  Adam  down,  had  not  continued 
the  process,  increased  the  force  of  the  habit,  and  so, 
through  the  accumulated  strength  of  sixty  centuries, 
inclined  us,  from  the  time  we  know  anything,  to  eat 
sour  grapes,  to  do  wrong.  As  the  habit  of  the  race. 
As  the  way  we  were  made.  Not  by  God,  hut  by  God, 
supplemented  by  all  the  inherited  tendencies,  all  the 
accumulated  forces  of  evil  and  of  wrong,  since  Adam, 
created  erect,  learned  to  grovel  and  to  bend.  But  if 
we,  in  resolute  decision,  are  ready  to  resist  this  in- 
heritance of  sin,  to  set  back  this  tide  flowing  down 
through  the  centuries,  by  the  grace  of  God  to  get  out 
of  this  atmosphere  that  floats  as  a  miasm  over  human- 
ity, if  we  will  not  follow  the  example  of  our  fathers, 
if  we  will  not  eat  sour  grapes — positively  and  wil- 
fully and  personally  sin,  our  teeth  will  not  be  touched. 
We  shall  not  be  punished  for  what  Adam  did.  Nor 
for  what  our  grandfathers  or  our  grandmothers  didn' t. 
We  shall  stand  before  God  in  our  own  individual  re- 
sponsibility, and  whether  our  "teeth"  shall  be  "set 
on  edge  "  or  not  will  depend  wholly  on  whether  or  not 
we  eat  "sour  grapes" — whether  we  ourselves,  in  our 
own  free  and  untramnieled  volition,  do  wrong  "  Ye  do 
the  deeds  of  your  fathers,"  said  the  Master,  in  His 
fierce  and  fiery  denunciation,  in  the  tremendous  out- 
burst of  His  wrath.    They  perished,  not  because  of 


89 


their  fathers'  deeds,  but  because  they  did  them.  Our 
fathers  may  have  been  felons,  but  that  don't  hurt 
us  if  we  are  saints. 

The  prophet  applies  the  philosophical  prin- 
ciple to  which  we  have  turned  our  thought 
still  more  broadly  in  human  life,  and  he 
not  only  draws  a  line  of  demarcation,  of  separation, 
between  father  and  son,  but  between  our  past  and  our 
present  selves  as  well.  And  it  is  the  application  of 
the  same  principle,  for,  in  a  very  vital  and  a  very 
practical  sense,  our  past  self  is  the  father  of  which 
our  present  self  is  the  son.  We  are  to-day  the  pro- 
duct of  what  we  were  yesterday.  We  shall  be  to- 
morrow the  outgrowth  and  the  fruitage  of  what  we  are 
to  day.  The  child  is  father  of  the  man  not  only,  but 
our  whole  past  self  is  the  ancestor  of  ourself  this  day 
and  hour.  And.  in  this  sphere  of  experience,  this 
narrow  range  of  life,  our  principle  applies.  Our  teeth 
will  not  be  set  on  edge  "  for  the  "  sour  grapes"  we 
used  to  eat,  if  we  don't  eat  them  now.  We  shall 
never  be  punished  for  what  we  were,  if  we  have  be- 
come better.  As  Ezekiel  expresses  it :  ''When  the 
wicked  man  turneth  away  from  his  wickedness  that 
he  hath  committed,  and  doeth  that  which  is  lawful 
and  right,  he  shall  save  his  soul  alive.  Because  he 
considereth,  and  turneth  away  from  all  his  transgres- 
sions that  he  hath  committed,  he  shall  surely  live,  he 
shall  not  die."  No  teeth  will  ache,  if  no  sour  grapes 
are  eaten.    No  penalties  impend,  if  no  wrong  is  doing. 

I  wish  I  could  impress  this  all  inclusive  principle  of 


90 


morals  upon  our  inmost  thought,  and  get  it  deep 
down  into  our  inmost  souls.  It  is  reiterated  and  rein- 
forced with  exhaustless  emphasis  at  the  cross  of 
Christ.  So  completely  does  the  Crucified  atone  for 
our  transgression,  so  to  the  uttermost  does  He  save  us, 
so  to  the  last  stain  does  His  blood  wash  away  sin,  that 
we  stand  before  God  as  though  we  had  come  from  His 
hand  pure  and  sinless  this  hour.  As  though  He  had 
just  created  us,  as  He  created  Adam  in  Eden,  without 
a  scar  or  a  taint, — when,  looking  upon  that  nature, 
and  seeing  all  that  was  in  it.  He  "saw  that  all  was 
very  good."'  No  matter  how  persistently  our  fathers 
have  eaten  sour  grapes .  No  matter  how  wildly  we 
once  plunged  into  their  transmitted  excesses.  If  we 
have  stojjped  altogether  and  finally,  our  teeth  will  be 
perfectly  sound,  our  souls  unstained,  our  lives  com 
plete.  The  past  we  have  put  away  forever.  Those 
sour  grapes  are  trodden  under  foot.  Our  fathers  we 
are  ashamed  of.  The  inheritance  of  our  ancestry  we 
repudiate.  We  stand  before  God  all  alone.  He  sees 
us  singly.  And  to  each,  standing  alone  in  perfected 
individuality,  apart  from  all  the  world.  He  says, 
"Come," — "  Enter  the  kingdom." 


The  Eye. 

Luke  XI,  34 :    When  thine  eye  is  single,  thy  whole 
body  also  is  full  of  light. 

WO  factors  are  involved  in  every  act  of  percep- 
tion, the  things  we  see  and  the  way  we  see  them, 
what  we  hear  and  how  we  hear  it.  The  result, 
therefore,  has  a  twofold  dependence.  What  we  see 
depends  not  only  on  the  object  at  which  we  look,  but 
on  how  we  look  at  it.  What  we  hear  depends  not 
only  on  the  sound  that  strikes  the  air,  but  on  how  it 
strikes  the  tympanum  of  the  individual  ear.  So  of 
the  inward  organs  of  the  mind  as  well.  What  we  per- 
ceive with  the  eye  of  intellect  and  thought  depends  on 
the  object  of  which  we  think,  and  on  the  way  we  think 
about  it.  Idealism  has  this  basis  of  truth  underneath 
all  its  absurdities,  that  many  times  things  and  men 
are  simply  what  we  think  they  are.  Some  are  the 
most  charming  people  in  the  world  to  us,  because  we 
think  so.  They  are  not  to  everybody,  which  is  all  the 
more  satisfactory  to  us. 

Hence  it  is  that  we  see  the  same  things  many 
times  and  see  them  very  differently;  hear  the  same 
sounds  and  have  wholly  different  impressions;  think 
about  the  same  things  and  have  wholly  different 
thoughts;  keep  in  our  minds  the  same  persons  and  en- 
tertain wholly  different  views  and  wholly  opposite 


92 


sentiments.  Have  you  ever  heard  two  perfectly  hon- 
est, reliable  persons  testify  before  the  court  on  oppo- 
site sides  of  a  legal  case  ?  Both  saw  the  same  thing. 
Both  tell  the  truth,  as  they  believe  it.  And  they  tell 
a  directly  opposite  story.  They  contradict  each  other 
from  beginning  to  end.  Yet  neither  is  a  perjurer. 
They  saw  differently.  Yo^^ask  an  enthusiastic  Dem- 
ocrat to  tell  you  the  bottom  facts  about  the  present 
national  administration,  and  then  you  sit  down  by  a 
thorough-going  Republican  and  let  him  give  you  the 
same  interesting  narrative.  It  will  require  a  micro- 
scope of  most  powerful  lens  to  detect  the  i)oint  of 
identity.  Ask  a  reformer  and  an  ambitious  seeker  of 
office  what  they  think  of  Civil  Service  Reform,  and 
the  answer  will  lead  along  wholly  opposite  lines  and 
in  most  divergent  directions.  The  comparative  effi- 
ciency of  Prohibitory  and  High  License  laws  is  a  per- 
petual bone  of  contention.  It  divides  us  into  two 
great  armies.  Battalions  that  let  the  enemy  alone  and 
hack  and  hew  each  other.  We  can  never  get  at  the 
facts.  Because  every  investigator  looks  through  Pro- 
hibition or  High  License  glasses,  and  tells  us  what  he 
sees,  not  necessarily  what  is  there. 

Two  are  walking  side  by  side  through  a  picture 
gallery.  They  look  upon  the  same  canvas.  They 
contemplate  the  same  products  of  artistic  skill.  They 
see  the  same  lines  of  beauty,  the  same  delicate  shades, 
the  same  blending  of  color  and  of  hue.  And  yet  what 
a  different  story  they  tell  us,  what  different  im- 
pressions they  have  received,  as  they  leave  the  gallery 


93 


of  art  behind.  What  has  left  an  indelible  impress 
npon  one,  has  been  wholly  forgotten  by  the  other. 
What  was  matchless  skill  in  the  eyes  of  one  was  a 
daub  in  the  eyes  of  the  other.  Some  pictured 
scene,  of  rarest  art,  that  caused  a  thrill  of  rapture  in 
the  one,  made  the  cold  chills  run  through  the  other. 
What  the  one  admired,  the  other  abhorred.  They 
looked  at  the  same  things.  They  looked  differentl^^ 
So  when  a  company  of  friends  have  listened  to  some 
great  singer,  and,  when  the  tones  of  the  voice  have 
died  away,  give  to  each  other  their  impressions.  The 
one  has  been  charmed  by  the  sweetness  of  the  song, 
another  by  the  execution  of  the  singer,  another  by  the 
pathos  of  her  spirit,  another  by  the  grace  of  her 
movement,  another  of  the  number  will  be  pretty  sure 
to  speak  first  of  all  of  the  perfect  fit  of  her  dress. 
They  all  heard  and  saw  the  same  prima  donna,  only 
they  heard  and  saw  differently.  It  would  be  interest- 
ing to  listen  to  the  remarks  of  a  congregation,  filing 
out  of  the  church  door,  after  they  have  heard  a  par- 
ticular sermon,  except,  it  may  be,  to  the  preacher. 
A  great  many,  perhaps,  would  be  talking  about  the 
bonnets,  but  some  would  be  talking  about  the  ser- 
mon, and  what  a  different  thing  on  different  lips  that 
same  sermon  would  be.  There  cut  in  pieces  by  criti- 
cism; there  served  up  in  a  dish  for  other  people;  there 
etherialized  into  a  kind  of  angelic  communication;  and 
there  accepted  as  a  plain  and  positive  message  from 
the  depths  of  an  earnest  soul.  Mr.  Gough  had  in  his 
library  one  of  the  matchless  representations  in  art  of 


94 


the  Madonna,  and  the  divine  Child.  An  uncouth, 
illiterate  visitor  in  Mr.  Uough's  library  stopped  be- 
fore it  and  said:  "A  sweet  pretty  baby,  ain't  it,  Mr. 
Gough  ?"  The  Blessed  among  women  was  there  on  that 
canvas;  the  divine  Child  was  in  her  arms;  but  the  be- 
holder could  see  nothing  but  bones  and  pulp.  It  was 
said  to  be  a  remarkable  and  yet  an  invariable  fact  of 
the  Centennial  in  Philadelphia,  that  no  two  persons, 
comparing  notes  after  their  visit,  ever  saw  the  same 
things.  The  same  things  were  there.  Only  they 
didn't  see  them. 

This  fundamental  principle  of  philosophy  was 
constantly  before  the  mind  of  the  Master  and  His  dis- 
ciples. How  often  did  that  wonderful  Teacher,  when 
proclaiming  to  humanity  some  great  truth,  some  new 
revelation  from  the  skies,  use,  in  intense  solemnity, 
this  word:  "He  that  hath  ears  to  hear,  let  him  hear." 
The  truth  was  infallible.  But  oh  there  was  so  much 
the  matter  of  their  ears  !  He  who  taught  them  was 
unerring,  but  they  needed  so  imperatively  this  ever 
repeated  counsel:  "Take  heed" — take  heed — "how 
ye  hear."  Casually,  perhaps  I  may  say  carelessly, 
speaking  we  would  say  that  "the  light  of  the  body" 
is  the  atoms  or  waves  of  material  light  that  float  in 
the  atmosphere  around  us.  Those  that  Grod  created 
sixty  centuries  ago,  or  millions  and  millions  of  years, 
according  to  our  geologic  theology,  when  He  said, 
in  resistless  command:  "Let  there  be  light."  The 
Master,  basing  his  utterance  on  this  philosophical 
principle  of  which  we  have  been  thinking,  says:  "The 


95 


light  of  the  body  is  the  eye."  In  us,  not  outside. 
Here,  not  all  around.  The  atoms- -the  waves — the 
undulations  of  atmosphere-^these  amount  to  nothing, 
unless  we  have  the  healthy  organ  to  see  them.  If  the 
eye  is  all  right  then  we  see.  If  that  is  all  wrong, 
then  we  don't,  though  the  atoms  are  indestructible 
and  the  waves  and  undulations  ceaseless.  All  depends 
on  the  looking.  "When  thine  eye  is  single,  thy 
whole  body  also  is  full  of  light."  Good  eyes  of  soul  are 
transparency.  Bad  eyes  opacity.  Good  eyes,  light. 
Bad  eyes,  darkness. 

The  principle  applies  in  the  material  and  physical 
world.  No  gay  deceiver  can  equal  in  deception 
these  eyes  of  ours.  They  can  pervert,  and  twist,  and 
deform  to  any  extent.  When  the  infant  child  first 
sees,  there  is  no  conception  of  distance.  Every  ob- 
ject, however  remote,  is  right  against  the  eye.  There 
is  no  intervening  space.  AYe  do  not  know  this  from 
memory,  but  from  the  experience  of  the  blind  who 
have  been  restored  to  sight,  and,  when  they  saw,  saw 
everythmg  close  to  them,  and  from  the  fact  that  an 
infant  child  will  dodge  when  an  object  is  nowhere 
near.  It  has  not  learned  to  calculate  distance,  and  its 
little  eyes  tell  it  a  story.  When  we  put  a  straight 
stick  in  water,  our  eyes  tell  us  that,  at  the  point  of 
contact  with  the  water,  it  is  bent.  There  is  nothing 
the  matter  with  the  stick.  Our  eyes  are  false  wit- 
nesses. 

All  this  of  eyes  that  are  well.  AVlien  they  are 
diseased,  or  awry,  then  the  philosophical  principle  is 


96 


all  the  more  forcibly  impressed.  The  astigmatic  eye 
sees  indistinctly  and  imperfectly.  The  horizontal  and 
the  perpendicular  lines  on  the  chart  are  of  equal 
breadth  and  blackness,  only  the  eye,  in  its  impair- 
ment, sees  a  difference.  There  is  not  any  difference. 
Only  the  eye  sees  it.  As  our  professor  in  college  used 
to  say:  "There  is  no  such  thing  as  ghosts,  though  a 
great  many  have  seen  them."  Until  middle  life  one, 
whom  I  know,  was  not  aware  that  there  were  the 
minute  wavelets  of  water  playing  over  the  surface  of 
the  quiet  lake  that  most  other  people  have  seen  all 
their  lives.  The  ignorance  was  a  slight  defect  of 
vision.  The  wavelets  were  there.  His  eyes  did  not 
see  them.  What  anew  world  opens  before  the  vision 
of  one  who  has  for  years  neglected  the  optician,  and 
at  last  comes  to  his  senses,  and  obtains  glasses  that 
fit  him — that  virtually  open  his  eyes  to  see  !  Every- 
thing is  just  the  same  as  before.  And  yet  everything 
is  changed,  every  beauty  is  enhanced,  every  object  is 
clarified,  a  new  world  opens,  because  he  has  begun  to 
see. 

The  principle  before  us  is  of  still  higher  applica- 
tion when  we  think  of  the  inner  eye  of  the  soul,  the 
perceptive  faculty  within  us,  that  looks  out  and 
draws  its  own  conclusions  about  the  world  and  all  that 
is  upon  it.  The  idealist  says  that  that  is  all  the  ex- 
ternal world  there  is — what  we  create  by  our  thinking 
about  it.  There  are  only  men  and  women  around  us 
because  we  think  there  are.  There  are  only  hard  sub- 
stances that  we  hit  and  get  hurt,  because  we  think  we 


97 


hit  them  and  think  we  get  hurt.  There  is  a  Gk)d  in 
this  universe  only  because  we  think  there  is.  No 
Deity  but  the  manufacture  of  our  thoughts.  Now  this 
is  the  last  absurdity.  We  know  there  are  men  and 
women  around  us,  for  they  make  themselves  known 
to  us  in  very  many  ways,  sometimes  by  the  extent  to 
which  they  make  us  love  them,  and  sometimes  by  the 
degree  in  which  they  make  us  hate,  or,  perhaps  I 
better  say,  dislike,  them.  We  get  hurt  for  we  bear  the 
scars  and  the  broken  bones.  There  is  a  God  for  our 
inmost  soul  feels  Him.  And  yet  this  last  absurdity 
of  philosophy  is  based  on  the  truth  that  underlies  our 
thought  to-day,  that  men  and  things  are  very  much 
what  we  make  them;  the  men  and  women  around  us 
lovable  or  hateful  as  we  love  or  hate  them;  our  in- 
juries and  wounds  great  or  small  as  we  magnify  or 
minimize  them;  and  God  a  Being  of  infinite  charm,  or 
a  consuming  fire,  as  we  think  of  Him  in  the  inmost 
trend  of  our  silent,  deepest  thought.  Not  as  we 
theorize  about  Him  in  our  theologies,  but  as  we  think, 
and  as  we  feel,  when  we  are  alone  with  Him  in  the 
presence  of  the  eternities.  There,  in  that  inaccessible 
chamber  of  the  soul,  God  is  the  sunlight  or  God  is 
the  deej),  dark  gloom. 

Our  perceptive  faculty,  the  way  we  look  at 
things,  is  determined  very  largely  by  these  extraneous 
considerations,  these  moulding  and  controlling  in- 
fluences. Our  prevailing  appetites  and  passions  sway 
us  very  largely  in  our  views  and  opinions.  We  think 
many  things  because  we  want  to  think  them.  And 


98 


we  refuse  to  believe  others  because  we  don't  want  to. 
Our  surroundings  in  life,  the  character  of  the  parents 
God  has  given  us,  the  wife  or  husband  a  man  or 
woman  has,  the  dispositions  of  our  children,  the  tone 
of  the  society  in  which  we  move,  all  these  enter  largely 
into  our  philosophies,  and  give  direction  to  our  be- 
liefs, and  modify  our  opinions.  Our  education  from 
our  childhood  until  now,  the  ideas  our  teachers  put 
into  our  heads  long  years  ago,  the  college  we  went  to, 
the  papers  we  read,  the  stumj)  speakers  we  hear,  the 
preachers  to  whom  we  listen,  all  these  go  into  the 
make-up  of  our  minds,  and  enter  largely  into  what 
we  think  and  the  way  we  reason.  And  then  our  per- 
sonal, present  interests  bias  and  limit  us,  and  narrow 
the  range  out  of  which  we  cannot  easily  get  because 
we  cannot  possibly  get  out  of  ourselves.  How  much 
these  all  have  to  do,  for  example,  with  a  man's  poli- 
tics. His  appetites  and  passions— his  desire  for  po- 
sition and  place.  His  surroundings — the  class  of  pol- 
iticians with  whom  he  trains.  His  education— the 
way  his  fathers  used  to  think,  or  some  master  mind 
into  contact  with  which  he  has  been  brought.  His 
present  interest,  and  what  it  pays  to  think.  Many 
times  these  are  the  ingredients  of  nine-tenths  of  a 
man's  politics,  leaving  one-tenth  to  conscientiousness 
and  candor. 

In  our  investigation  in  any  department  of  science, 
in  our  study  in  any  department  of  art,  these  influences 
largely  enter,  and  go  to  the  final  and  determining  re- 
sults.   And  we  reach  those  conclusions  at  last  that 


99 


are  in  harmony  with  the  demands  of  our  passions, 
that  coalesce  most  quickly  with  our  surroundings, 
that  antagonize  the  least  our  earlier  education,  and 
that  fall  in  most  swiftly  with  our  interests  and  what 
we  want  to  do. 

When  we  come  to  the  domain  of  morals  and  re- 
ligion, you  see  how  vitally  the  principle  bears  upon 
all  our  thought  and  action.  If  the  eye  of  the  soul  "is 
single,  the  whole  body  is  full  of  lighc."  If  we  see 
rightly,  all  is  right.  If  we  see  wrongly,  all  is  wrong. 
And  we  see  just  as  the  eye  of  the  soul — conscience — 
is  fitted  to  see.  In  the  material  world,  we  see  just 
what  the  physical  eye  detects;  in  the  intellectual 
world  just  what  the  perceptive  faculty,  the  mental  eye, 
discovers;  in  morals  just  what  conscience,  the  moral 
eye,  tells  us  is  there. 

And  all  these  influences,  of  which  I  have  spoken, 
are  operative  to  warp  or  to  untie  conscience.  Some- 
times to  enslave  it.    Sometimes  to  set  it  free. 

The  single  question  is,  What  are  they  doing  with 
ns  i  Are  the  appetites  and  passions  of  our  natures 
other  messes  of  pottage  for  which  we,  as  Esaus,  are 
selling  our  birthright,  in  that  fatal  commerce,  where 
there  is  "no  room  for  rej^entance  though"  men  seek  it 
"carefully  and  with  tears !"  Are  they  the  accumu- 
lated burden  under  the  weight  of  which  we  go  away 
from  the  Master  "sorrowful?"  Are  the  surround- 
ings of  life  a  fatal  miasm,  in  the  damp  and  chill  of 
whose  marshes,  health  of  soul  is  the  great  impossibil- 
ity ?    Are  all  the  inlluences  of  our  early  education. 


100 


coming  up  from  our  past,  leading  us  away  from 
truth  and  the  Master  and  God  ?  Are  personal  interest, 
present  ease,  earthly  emolument,  all  pointing  the 
other  way?  Then  the  eye  of  the  soul  is  "double" — 
"the  whole  body  is  full  of  darkness." 

The  only  hope  of  salvation  is  in  clarified  vision. 
The  single  eye.  The  divine  Spirit  must  lift  tlie 
film.  The  electric  forces  of  s:race  must  absorb  the 
cataract.  Passion  and  appetite  will  then  be  brought 
under  control.  No  mess  of  pottage  will  betray.  The 
eye  of  the  watchmaker  is  trained  to  discover  the 
minutest  defect,  to  see  in  a  moment  the  most  trivial 
flaw.  When  the  eye  of  the  soul  is  single,  it  sees  the 
first  defraction  from  the  straight  line  of  virtue,  and 
avoids  it.  The  pilot  out  on  the  ocean  hears  the  far 
off  fog  signal  that  to  other  ears  is  noiseless.  Our 
trained  spirits  distinguish  far  off  the  heavenly  voices, 
the  signals  of  safety  from  the  skies.  And  as  the  eye 
of  spirit  is  clear,  and  waxes  strong  and  far  reaching, 
the  range  of  vision  opens.  It  begins  to  look  through 
the  mystic  glass  of  faith,  and  discerns  the  glorious 
things  of  God .  It  takes  the  telescope  of  its  divine 
communion,  it  sees  a  starry  heavens,  a  vast  blue 
dome,  and  then,  the  soul  that  is  looking,  in  one 
mighty  sweep,  enters  upon  its  possession,  it  grasps 
with  open  hand  them  all— "all  things"  ours- -"we" 
"Christ's"  and  "Christ"  "God's." 


MatJi  X  \  32.  WJiosoever  therefore  shall  confess  me 
before  men,  him  will  I  confess  also  before  my 
Father  which  is  in  heaven. 

WO  weeks  from  to  day  this  community  will  be 
challenged  anew  by  the  mandatory  voice  of  this 
church.  As  one  man,  we  who  are  identified 
with  it,  in  the  accustomed  form,  and  by  the  divinely 
instituted  ordinance,  will  together  speak  the  language 
of  our  familiar  hymn,  lifting  together  this  calling 
voice : 

"We're  marching  to  Canaan  with  banner  and  song, 
We're  soldiers  enlisted  to  fight  'gainst  the  wrong: 
But,  lest  in  the  conflict  our  strength  should  divide, 
We  ask,  Who  among  us  is  on  the  Lord's  side  ? 
Oh,  who  is  there  among  us,  the  true  and  the  tried, 
Who'll  stand  by  his  colors— who's  on  the  Lord's  side?" 

With  this  purpose  in  view  as  a  church,  I,  as  its  rep- 
sentative  to-day,  would  speak  to  you  upon  the  vital 
subject  of  confession,  upon  the  duty  and  the  privilege 
no  less  of  an  open,  frank,  willing  acknowledgement  of 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  as  our  personal,  present  Saviour. 
May  the  divine  Spirit,  with  resistless  power,  carry 
that  duty  home  to  many  a  heart  and  conscience  while 
I  speak. 

Christianity,  in  which,  as  a  system,  we  all  heartily 
believe,  is  individualized  and  made  distinct  among  the 
varied  religions  of  men  by  its  personal  element — its 


102 


relation  fundamentally,  not  to  a  truth,  nor  to  a  princi- 
ple, but  to  a  Person.  At  the  centre  of  this  system 
stands  a  Man.  In  a  famous  temj^le  in  the  east  there 
are  four  entrances,  one  to  the  north,  one  to  the  south, 
one  to  the  east,  one  to  the  west.  By  which  ever  por- 
tal yon  enter,  you  pass  through  a  long  corridor  to  one 
central  room,  crowned  with  a  vast  and  ample  dome. 
Christianity  has  its  entrances,  its  long  corridors,  its 
multiplied  truths,  its  eternal  principles.  All  lead 
alike  to  the  central  room  beneath  the  vast  and  tower- 
ing dome,  the  Person,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Other 
religions  stop  at  principles,  Christianity  stops  at 
Christ.  Others  present  truth,  this  presents  a  divine 
personality.  In  Him  truth  centres,  duty  inheres,  life 
indwells,  heaven  consists. 

With  so  great  and  with  so  reiterated  emphasis  did 
the  Master  enforce  this  conception  of  His  religion  that 
the  only  possible  conclusion  of  him  who  denies  His 
divinity  is  the  bold  blasphemj'  of  His  exhaustless 
egotism.  He  put  the  "I"  and  the  "Me"  before  every- 
thing else.  Because  He  was  God,  or  because  He  had 
such  an  exalted  conception  of  Himself.  One  or  the 
other  conclusion  is  inevitable. 

And  so  we  have  this  intense  personal  element,  per- 
vading all  His  teachings  to  men.  "Come  unto" — not 
a  system,  not  truth,  but — "Come  unto  me,  and"  not 
truth,  not  God,  but  "I  will  give  you  rest."  "Fol- 
low," not  what  He  may  teach,  the  principles  He 
may  inculcate,  but  "follow  me."  "Without  me  ye 
can  do  nothing."    "/am  the  light  of  the  world." 


103 


"If  any  man  thirst,  let  him  come  unto  me  and  drink.'" 
"No  man  Cometh  unto  the  Father  but  by  me."  No 
other  religion  adopts  that  language.  The  Vedas  of 
India,  the  Koran  of  the  Mohammedan,  the  Shastras  of 
Buddism,  the  refined  metaphysics  of  our  fashionable 
philosophy,  all  these  are  centred  in  great  principles, 
they  present  to  the  soul  great  truths.  Salvation  con- 
sists in  the  acceptance  of  principles.  In  the  belief  in 
truths.  Here,  at  the  cross,  we  go  back  of  great  prin- 
ciples, we  step  behind  eternal  truths,  and  we  get  at 
last  to  the  Person  who  is  the  living  soul  of  all  great 
principles,  the  vital  force  of  all  essential  truths,  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

This  conception  of  our  holy  religion  leads  us  at 
once  to  the  duty  of  confession.  If  a  Mohammedan  can 
be  saved  by  his  religion  he  can  be  saved  without  con- 
fessing Mohammed;or  the  Buddhist  withoutconfessing 
Buddha  ;  or  the  Chinese  without  confessing  Confucius; 
because  each  of  these  was  subordinate,  and  so  pro- 
claimed himself,  to  the  truths  he  taught.  But  the 
christian,  to  be  a  christian,  must  confess  Christ,  be- 
cause He  placed  Himself  above  all  truth,  superior  to 
principle,  sovereign  over  a  system,  and  a  confession 
of  Christianity  becomes  essentially  a  confession  of  its 
Christ.    "He  that  confesseth  me.'' 

In  the  tenth  chapter  of  His  epistle  to  the  Romans 
Paul  sets  the  two  duties  of  the  Christian  life  side  by 
side.  He  makes  them  alike  essential.  Belief  and 
confession.  Faith  and  frank  avowal.  "With  the 
heart  man  believeth  unto  righteousness  ;  and  with  the 


104 


mouth  confession  is  made  unto  salvation."  But  be- 
fore the  apostle  announces  this  alliance,  He  makes  the 
duty  of  confession,  in  harmony  with  our  thoughts  to- 
day, intensely,  vividly,  personal.  "If  thou  shalt  con- 
fess with  thy  mouth  the  Lord  Jesus."  That  is  the 
final  condition.  Confession.  Confession,  not  of  a  prin- 
ciple, not  of  a  truth.  Rut,  as  Paul  puts  it,  of  a  Person . 
And  so  the  Master  had  said,  long  before  Paul  had  a 
thought  of  Him:  "Whosoever  therefore  confesseth 
me  before  men,  him  will  I  confess  also  before  my 
Father  which  is  in  heaven."  A  Person  must  confess 
us.  A  principle  couldn't  do  that.  Truth  could  not, 
in  the  abstract.  A  Person  must  do  it,  and  so  the  Mas- 
ter proclaims  it  alike  essential  that  we  all  confess 
a  Person, — confessing  Him — He  confessing  ua. 

The  question  is  often  asked,  what  doctrines  are  nec- 
essary to  salvation,  wtiat  must  a  man  believe  in  order 
to  be  saved?  To  how  much  must  we  give  assent  to 
get  to  heaven  ?  It  is  a  question  from  a  very  low  plane. 
But  it  is  true  to  human  nature.  Of  any  good  thing, 
we  are  very  apt  to  ask,  How  much  must  we  do  or  suf 
fer  to  get  it  ?  So  on  the  same  principle  we  ask.  How 
much  must  we  believe  to  get  the  believer's  reward  { 
I  am  not  prepared  to  answer  that  question.  I  was, 
when  I  came  out  of  the  theological  seminary  twenty- 
six  years  ago,  not  then  of  a  very  advanced  or  ma- 
ture age.  But  I  have  been  thinking  during  these 
twenty-six  years,  and  it  comes  to  me  now  about  like 
this,  that  we  can  not  outline  theologies  for  men,  we 
can  not  grind  out  confessions.    It  will  be  better  after 


105 


all  to  stop  with  the  Person  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ — 
just  where  the  Master  did,  when  He  said,  "Whosoever 
therefore  shall  confess  me." 

The  time  has  gone  by  when,  with  any  authority  or 
accents  of  command,  we  can  say  to  men,  Believe  as  we 
do,  or  be  anathema — think  just  this  way  or  be  lost. 
The  old  habit  lingers  in  the  disposition  down  in  our 
hearts  quietly  to  opine  that,  if  men  do  not  think  about 
as  we  do,  there  is  very  little  chance  for  them  .  Tlie 
impression  is  harmless  so  J  ong  as  we  do  not  give  it  utter- 
ance. So  long  as  we  do  not  give  it  utterance  in  rack  and 
thumbscrew,  as  Romedid  three  hundred  years  ago;  or 
in  denunciation  and  abuse,  as  have  the  bigotry  and 
narrowness  of  a  later  day.  The  essential  of  all  religion 
ia  the  Person  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  There  all 
truth  centres.  Thence  all  life  flows.  Our  confession 
as  christians  is  made,  whatever  our  theology,  when  we 
confess  Him.  The  Hottentot  and  the  New  Zealander, 
meeting  together,  both  lovers  of  a  new  found  Saviour, 
of  a  wholly  different  tongue,  could  find  no  method  of 
expression  until  a  familiar  word  of  the  language  the 
missionaries  spoke  came  to  each,  and  one  shouted 
enthusiastically  "Amen"  and  the  other  rapturously  re- 
sponded: "Hallelujah  ?"  Avery  few  words  can  bring 
the  world  of  believers  together,  of  every  land,  of  every 
family,  of  every  faith,  if  they  are  spoken  at  the  cross, 
if  they  voice  the  praises  of  Him  Whom,  with  one 
united  anthem,  over  all  the  earth,  we  "crown  Lord  of 
all." 

And  so  the  duty  of   confession  flows  from  the 


106 


inmost  nature  of  our  religion,  as  it  soars  beyond  doc- 
trine and  tenet,  and  finds  irs  resting  place  in  a  divine 
Personality.  Centering  in  the  Person  of  the  living 
Christ,  our  allegiance  is  commanded,  and  our  confes- 
sion becomes  a  sacred  trust. 

And  it  is  a  very  natural  and  befitting  thing  that  we 
should  confess  Him,  if  we  love  Hina.  That  act  of 
Peter  makes  us  shudder  still.  We  are  still  horrified  at 
its  inhumanity,  because  he  was  cursing  and  swearing 
about  the  one  he  loved  most  of  all,  that  had  the  first 
place  in  his  heart.  Had  it  been  a  casual  acquaintance, 
one  whom  he  had  known  only  by  a  passing  nod,  that 
had  been  arrested  and  dragged  intothe  judgment  hall, 
and  with  whom  he  liad  been  declared  in  sympathy, 
there  would  have  been  no  crime  in  Peter  save  his  cow- 
ardice and  his  profanity .  There  would  have  been  no 
baseness  of  treachery,  no  dark  deed  of  dishonor.  But 
there  stood  his  best  Friend,  his  most  intimate  Com- 
panion, beneath  that  bosom  beat  the  dearest  heart  he 
knew.  And  that  was  his  crime.  It  is  criminal  always 
not  to  confess  those  to  whom  we  are  under  great  obli- 
gations. Here  the  obligation  is  in  the  infinite.  Or 
those  to  whom  we  are  joined  by  closest  ties.  Here 
the  tie  is  indissoluble.  Or  those  who  love  us.  Here 
love  has  laid  down  its  life. 

When  we  come  to  the  question  of  methods,  we  en- 
ter upon  a  wide  and  extended  range.  Every  christian 
must  confess.  In  what  way,  rests  with  his  conscience. 
How,  his  own  heart  must  tell  him.  The  duty  is  abso- 
lute; the  method  we  must  decide,  in  the  exercise  of 


107 


our  best  judgment-,  guided  by  that  Spirit,  who,  the 
Master  has  said,  will  "lead  (us)  into  all  truth."  I  can 
say,  with  absolute  authority,  you  must,  in  someway, 
confess  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  as  your  Saviour.  Yon 
must,  if  you  desire  Him  to  confess  you.  He  has  said 
so.  He  of  tlie  infallible  word.  But  I  cannot  say  with 
the  same  absolute  authority  that  you  must  confess 
Him  in  my  way,  or  in  the  way  of  the  organized,  visi- 
ble church.  There  is  no  "must"  at  this  point.  But 
there  is,  I  am  confident,  an  "incomparably  better." 
Better  than  any  method  you,  in  wisest  ingenuity,  can 
devise,  is  the  method,  down  through  the  years,  of  the 
christian  church.  The  method  hallowed  by  examj^le, 
ratified  by  all  experience,  and  sealed  with  the  blessing 
and  fadeless  benediction  of  God. 

When  we  spread  that  table  of  our  Lord  two  weeks 
from  to-day,  we  present  to  the  world  the  time  hon- 
ored method  of  confession.  We  do  it,  in  close  alli- 
ance with  the  Master's  words  when  He  said:  "This  do 
in  remembrance  of  me."  The  church  says  to  the 
world:  In  frank  confession  sit  at  the  gospel  feast.  If 
you  love  the  Lord,  sit  with  those  who  love  hun  at  His 
table.  This  is  the  significance,  and  this  is  the  essence, 
of  church  membership.  It  is  simply  a  confession  of 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  as  a  personal  Saviour.  It  is 
obedience  to  His  conditions  when  He  said:  "Whoso- 
ever therefore  shall  confess  me  before  men,  him  will  I 
also  confess  before  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven." 

No  little  confusion  exists  upon  this  subject  of 
church  membership.    I  would  like  to  dispel  a  few  of 


108 


the  cloud  banks.  I  would  like  to  dissipate  part  of 
the  mist. 

Some  have  hesitated,  some  I  doubt  not  who  are 
present  and  who  listen  to  my  voice  at  this  time,  under 
an  impression  that  the  act  of  connection  with  the  visible 
church  is  a  profession  of  superior  excellence,  of  riper 
spiritual  growth.  It  is  a  total  misconception.  It  is  a 
perversion,  sometimes  unintentional,  sometimes  ma- 
licious, of  the  facts  of  the  case.  We  are  in  the  church 
not  because  we  have  already  attained,  as  Paul  the 
apostle  puts  it,  but  because  we  are  very  solicitous  to 
attain,  and  are  resolved  to  employ  every  possible 
means  in  order  to  attainment.  And  so  it  io  rather  a 
denial,  than  a  profession,  of  any  superior  excellence 
or  spiritual  worth.  If  any  man  makes  that  claim,  it 
is  he  who  s rands  without,  and  gives  no  expression  to 
his  desire  for  a  better  life  by  employing  the  means. 
His  position  of  all  others  argues  a  sense  of  satisfac- 
tion, and  a  spiritual  self  conceit.  The  boy  who  won't 
go  to  school  claims  to  know  all  he  wants  to.  .Not  the 
boy  who  faithfully  ajjplies  himself  to  his  books.  The 
man  who  stays  away  from  dinner  de'ilares,  by  the  act, 
that  he  is  not  hungry.  Not  he  who  runs  at  the  ring- 
ing of  the  bell.  He  who  takes  the  cars  confesses  his 
need  of  a  conveyance.  He  who  walks  says  he  can  get 
get  along  without. 

What  I  have  already  said  earlier  in  this  discourse, 
goes  to  that  erroneous  conception  of  church  member- 
ship that  identifies  it  with  a  subscription  to  a  system 
of  theology,  or  acceptance  of  certain  doctrines  or  his- 


109 


toric  beliefs.  The  error  has  doubtless  arisen,  in  all 
candor,  from  the  customs  of  human  societies,  and  the 
organizations  of  men.  These  are  generally  based  ujjon 
certain  articles  of  a  constitution  or  by-laws,  and  mem- 
bership involves  subscription  to  the  constitution  and 
laws.  The  church  of  Jesus  Christ,  in  this  sense,  has 
no  constitution  or  by-laws,  except  the  fundamental 
law  of  allegiance  and  loyalty  to  the  Person  of  our 
Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ.  If  we  love  Him  we 
are  qualified  for  membership,  if  we  are  ignorant  of  the 
a  b  c's  of  theology;  if  we  don't  love  Him  we  are  not, 
though  we  have  the  catechism  at  our  tongues  ends,  and 
though  we  bristle  all  over  with  the  sharp  points  of 
creeds  most  rigid  and  confessions  most  comprehen- 
sive and  compact.  When  a  poor  sufferer  came  to  the 
Master  for  help  while  He  was  here,  there  were  no 
questions  asked  concerning  his  theology.  The  church 
stands  to-day  in  her  Master's  stead,  and  throws  open 
her  doors  and  her  heart  to  all  that  ask  for  healing, 
whatever  their  religious  faith.  The  church  makes 
no  conditions  essential  to  membership  that  her  Mas- 
ter has  not  made  essential  to  salvation. 

Then  the  most  serious  error  of  all  upon  this  subject  of 
such  vital  interest  is  the  expectation  that  the  church  will 
prove  a  kind  of  life  insurance  societj;,  or  membership 
within  it  a  ticket  of  security  to  the  skies.  Many  join 
the  church  as  they  take  the  cars  to  Albany — they  get 
a  ticket  at  the  office,  and  take  a  seat  in  the  car,  and 
dismiss  the  subject  from  further  consideration  and  the 
responsibilities  from  further  care.    They  expect  the 


110 


engine  of  good  luck  to  do  the  rest.  They  are  sitting 
very  comfortably,  but  they  are  nearing  a  tremendous 
smash  up.  Viewing  the  impendins:  collision  of  infi- 
nite forces,  the  prophet  exclaims:  "Woe,"  woe,  woe 
"to  them  that  are  at  ease  in  Zion." 

Removing  from  our  minds  these  incorrect  impres- 
sions, I  would  set  before  you  to  day  our  approaching 
sacramental  Sabbath  in  its  simi)licity,  and  at  the  same 
time  its  fearful  solemnity,  as  it  shall  bid  you  again, 
as  it  has  so  many  times  before  :  "Choose  j^ou  this  day 
whom  ye  will  serve."  Around  that  table  two  weeks 
from  to-day  will  sit  those  who,  by  their  posture  before 
the  world,  that  hour,  "Confess  (the  Master)  before 
men."  To  whom  He  has  promised,  Them  "I  will  also 
confess  before  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven."  They 
who  shall  sit  toe^ether  there  are  they,  like  all  their 
fellows,  of  many  imperfections,  and  of  many  faults. 
We  don't  claim  anything  else.  We  are  there  because 
we  need  so  much  help  in  our  weakness,  and  so  much 
grace  in  our  sin.  But,  by  that  act  before  the  world, 
we  confess  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  He  is  onr  only 
Hope.  He  is  our  only  Salvation.  We  trust  only  in 
that  name,  than  which  there  is  "none  other  under 
heaven  given  among  men  wherebj^  we  must  be  saved." 

Friends  of  mine,  I  would  like  to  take  you  each  by 
the  hand  this  morning,  in  all  kindness  and  in  all  af- 
fection, and  ask  you  one  question  i  When  that  issue 
shall  be  joined,  where  will  you  be  happiest,  when 
you  shall  stand  before  God,  if  you  have  been  found  ( 
At  that  table,  or  away  from  il For  Christ  or  against 


Ill 


Him  ?  And  while  I  ask  the  question,  a  scene  of  the 
coming  days  rises  before  me.  The  days,  perhaps,  not 
very  far  on.  I  am  gazing  upon  a  vast  and  innumer- 
able multitude,  among  them  the  loved  and  the  cher- 
ished of  your  own  heart,  all  standing  before  God, 
around  the  great  white  throne.  And  they  are  look- 
ing intently,  with  their  whole  natures,  upon  you,  as 
your  spirit  passes  into  their  presence,  and  up  to  the 
throne  around  wtiich  they  gather.  They  are  waiting 
there,  their  hearts  going  out,  oh  how  fondly,  for  you, 
waiting  for  one  thing.  They  are  looking,  ah  how 
eagerly,  to  see  what  the  Master  will  do.  And  now  I 
behold  that  Master  step  down  from  the  throne  on 
which  He  sits  by  the  side  of  the  Father.  If  you  have 
confessed  Him  here,  I  see  Him  take  you  by  the  hand, 
I  see  Him  beckon  to  those  loved  ones  of  the  days  gone 
by,  to  that  mother  who  taught  you  to  pray,  to  that 
pastor  who  led  you  to  Jesus,  to  that  Sunday  school 
teacher  who  told  yoxi  so  sweetly  the  story,  to  all  who 
bore  you  on  the  wings  of  prayer,  I  hear  Him  call  them 
to  come  nearer  and  see  ;  and  then,  as  I  look.  He  leads 
you  up  to  the  Father,  He  puts  His  hand  of  endless 
benediction  upon  your  head,  and  He  says  in  sweetest 
tones  ear  ever  heard,  "This  is  my  disciple — He  con- 
fessed me  before  men,  I  fulfill  my  promise,  I  confess 
(Him)  before  my  Father  and  the  holy  angels.  I  put 
the  new  name  upon  his  forehead.  I  make  him  a  pil- 
lar in  the  temple  of  my  God.  And  he  shall  go  no 
more  out  forever.  ' 

And  then  I  behold  another  scene.    It  is  dark  and 


112 


dreadful.  For  a  moment  it  makes  those  loving  hearts 
in  heaven  weep.  But  only  for  a  moment,  for  they 
understand  the  ways  of  God  to  men,  and  they  bow, 
and  are  at  peace.  But  the  rest  of  that  picture  I  will 
not  limn.  My  heart  fails  me.  My  pencil  droi:)s  from 
my  hand.  1  turn  away.  And  while  it  lingers  like 
some  fearful  dream  I  ask  you,  Will  you  come  '.  Will 
you  come  ? 


Separation. 

Math.  XIII:  30    Let  both  grow  together  until— 
^^,^^NTIL."    Then  they  shall  grow    together  no 
more.    Then  there  shall  be  separation,  final, 
Icrever.    Wheat  and  tares  will  remain  apait 
thereafter  through  the  eternities. 

There  is  a  tremendous  sifting  process  going  on 
in  this  world  of  ours,  going  on  all  the  while,  going  on 
everywhere.  You  may  trace  it,  if  you  please,  from 
the  lowest  up  to  the  highest  orders  of  being  and  of 
life.  Everywhere  separation.  He  "whose  fan  is  in 
His  hand"  is  "thoroughly  purging  His  floor."  "The 
axe  is  laid  to  the  root  of  the  tree."  Begin  at  the  bot- 
tom. Take  the  lowest  stratum  of  material  existence. 
In  mechanics  and  in  the  arts  there  is  constant  and  inev- 
vitable  separation.  Notning  can  be  done  without  it. 
We  cannot  use  theiron,  unless  we  separate  it  from  the 
slag.  We  cannot  turn  our  coin  into  gold,  unless  we 
burn  away  the  dross.  We  cannot  erect  our  buildings  of 
granite  and  stone,  unless  we  chisel  the  seams.  Ascend 
one  step,  and  we  meet  the  same  necessity.  Our  farm- 
ers cannot  bring  their  produce  into  market  unless  they 
have  a  thresher  and  a  fanning  mill.  They  have  got 
to  get  rid  of  the  chaflf  and  the  husks,  before  they  can 
fill  our  granaries  and  enrich  our  produce  exchange. 
Taking  another  step,  the  whole  study  and  care  upon 


114 


our  stock  farms  is  to  secure  everywhere  the  survival 
of  the  fittest.  To  separate  the  finer  from  the  inferior 
grades.  Poor  from  good  blood.  The  superior  are 
lolling  in  the  meadows,  the  inferior  are  sent  to  the 
slaughterhouse.  Or,  if  of  that  class  that  cannot  be 
eaten,  the  less  promising  are  harnessed  to  horse  cars, 
and  the  more  are  appareled  in  nickle  and  gilt.  I  re- 
fer to  city  horse  cars .  We  drive  very  respectable 
horses  before  them  up  here.  It  is  the  sifting  process 
that  is  going  on  everywhere  in  this  world  of  ours,  con- 
stant]}^, inevitably  as  it  seems,  inherent  in  the  very 
nature  of  things. 

Is  there  any  exception  to  this  law,  when  we 
come  to  man  ?  Is  not  this  race  to  which  we  belong 
being  sifted,  in  every  department  of  life,  in  every  de- 
main  of  action  ?  The  strong  and  the  vigorous  and  the 
manly  prevail.  The  weaker  go  to  the  wall.  It  is  true 
of  races.  It  is  true  of  men.  In  the  competition  of  bus- 
iness, here  and  there  one  becomes  a  millionaire,  ten 
thousand  by  his  side  become  jDaupers.  In  politics,  one 
learns  the  trick  of  successful  manipulation,  comes  to 
comprehend  the  mystery  of  pulling  wares,  sits  in  the 
legislature,  occupies  some  chair  of  state;  others  in- 
comparably more  worthy  are  remanded  to  the  shades 
of  private  life.  In  the  professions,  one  in  a  decade 
shines  as  a  pole  star:  the  rest  hold  candles.  Is  not 
the  sifting  sure  ?  Is  it  not  pervasive  ?  Is  it  not  inev- 
itable as  well  ?  Is  it  not  a  law  imbedded  in  the  in- 
most nature  of  things  ?  This  world  isn' t  arranged  by 
haphazard.    It  isn't  a  huge  box  of  letters  thrown 


115 


into  a  pile.  The  letters  are  spelled.  It  isn't  amass 
of  unhewn  stones  cast  up  into  a  heap;  it  is  a  building 
fitly  framed  together.  "Order  is  heaven's  lirst  law." 
And  the  law  of  the  mother  counti  y  up  yonder  stands 
first  in  the  statute  book  of  this  earthly  colony. 

And  so  when  you  come  to  the  sphere  of  morals, 
to  the  domain  of  religion,  you  are  prepared  to  pause 
a  moment  and  take  in  the  force  of  that  little  word  of 
five  letters — ^^untiiy  Here  as  everywheie  the  sift- 
ing process  must  go  onward.  Here  as  everywhere  sep- 
aration must  come.  It  is  in  the  nature  of  things.  It 
is  inevitable  in  the  order  of  this  universe.  There  is 
nothing  about  it  that  is  arbitrary  or  wilful  on  the  part 
of  any  being  beyond  or  above  us.  No  blind  fatality 
is  pursuing  us.  No  "Mara,"  as  the  Indiaman 
dreams,  is  hotly  after  us.  No  chance  is  playing  with 
us.  Nothing  is  going  to  7iappen.  The  eternities  are  in 
our  hands.  A  man's  future  is  his  own  creation. 
He  makes  the  only  heaven  or  hell  he  ever  goes  to. 

Consider  that  parable  of  the  tares  a  moment.  In 
that  metaphor  God  is  the  owner  of  the  field.  The 
ownerof  that  field  did  not,  by  some  determined,  reso- 
lute act,  make  a  part  of  the  growth  of  that  field  wheat 
and  a  part  tares.  Neither  did  He  put  a  part  of  the 
growth  of  the  field  into  his  barns,  and  a  part  into  the 
fire,  indiscriminately.  He  put  a  part  into  his  barn 
and  a  part  into  the  fire  because  a  part  in  its  own  na- 
ture, and  by  its  own  inherent  processes  of  growth, 
was  wheat,  and  a  part,  by  the  same  inherent  processes, 
was  tares.    And  in  the  discussion  that  is  coming  on 


116 


in  our  beloved  cli arch,  that  is  going  to  be  settled  in 
christian  harmony  and  love,  it  is  going  to  be  under- 
stood that  Presbj- terianism  does  not  teach,  and,  how- 
ever stern  its  statements,  never  did  teach,  that  God 
makes  a  certain  part  of  the  I'ace  wheat  and  a  certain 
part  tares,  and  then  at  last  stores  up  the  one  and  burns 
up  the  other. 

Neither  vs^ill  there  be  any  separation  when  the 
great  "until"  has  come,  save  that  which  has  been 
made  voluntarily  ere  that  final  moment  is  at  hand. 
The  sifting  is  taking  nlace  now.  The  fanning  mill  is 
working.  We  are  taking  our  places  to-day  for  the 
final  roll  call.  When  the  "until"  has  come  it  will 
simply  be  manifest  to  all  worlds  what  we  were  here — 
wheat  or  tares.  The  one  will  be  burned.  The  other 
will  be  gathered  into  barns.  The  one  burned,  because 
that  is  the  nature  of  tares.  The  other  in  the  granaries 
of  Grod,  because  that  is  where  wheat  belongs. 

Or,  take  that  other  judgment  scene,  as  our  Sav- 
iour dei)icts  it  so  thrillingly  in  the  25th  of  Math.  He 
uses  the  language  there:  '"He  shall  separate  them." 
"When  the  Son  of  Man  shall  come  in  His  glory  and 
all  the  holy  angels  with  Him,  then  shall  He  sit  upon 
the  throne  of  His  glory,  and  before  Him  shall  be  gath- 
ered all  nations .  And  He  shall  separate  them  as  the 
shepherd  divides  the  sheep  from  the  goats."  How 
does  the  shepherd  do  that  ?  Simply  by  getting  the 
sheep  on  one  side  because  they  are  sheep,  and  the 
goats  on  the  other  because  they  are  goats.  There  is 
nothing  arbitrary.    Nothing  wilful.  It  is  not  because 


117 


the  shepherd  feels  at  one  time  like  putting  some  an- 
imals on  one  side,  and  then  at  another  feels  like  put- 
ting some  on  the  other.  I  don't  think  we  can  get  this 
truth  too  positively  or  too  deeply  into  our  conception 
of  the  ways  of  God.  I  believe  it  is  fundamental  and 
all  inclusive.  Grod  made  no  separation  in  eternity 
past.  He  did  not  decree  so  many  sheep  and  so  many 
goats,  and  make  them  sheep  and  goats.  He  does  not 
separate  them  in  the  end,  save  as  they  separate  them- 
selves by  being,  of  their  own  accord,  sheep  or  goats. 

Or  to  lay  aside  the  figure  that  contains  a  little 
embarrassment  in  the  physical  difference  of  genus, 
God  did  not  separate  humanity  years  ago  by  decree- 
ing rhatso  many  should  be  good  and  so  many  should 
be  bad,  making  them  good  or  bad.  God  will  not  sep- 
arate humanity  at  last,  setting  so  many  on  His  right 
hand  and  so  many  on  His  left,  because  he  wants  so 
many  on  that  side  and  so  many  on  the  other.  He 
will  do  that  ultimately,  because  so  many  have,  in  the 
sifting  processes  of  time,  here  where  the  separation  is 
going  on  every  day,  taken  the  upward  path,  and  so 
many  have  followed  the  down  grade.  As  the  posture 
of  their  souls,  as  the  attitude  of  their  lives,  have  cho- 
sen good  or  loved  evil,  ^re  sheep  after  the  heavenly 
pattern,  or  goats  after  the  satanic  design. 

In  society,  for  its  protection  and  defense,  we  build 
houses  of  refuge,  reformatories,  penitentiaries.  State 
prisons.  We  don't  build  them  simply  that  we  may 
put  a  certain  number  of  our  fellow  men  within  their 
walls,  for  the  sake  of  having  them  inhabited.  We 


118 


build  them  that  the  criminal  classes  who  choose  crime, 
who  revel  in  evil  courses,  who  imperil  society,  who 
are  dangerous  to  have  abroad,  may  be  securely  barred 
and  bolted  within  them.  Because  they  are  criminals, 
and  because  society  must  be  protected,  and  our  rights 
of  person  and  property  secured .  The  criminals  who 
are  within  the  walls  make  that  separation  from  those 
who  are  without  them,  by  their  criminal  courses,  by 
their  wilfnl,  malicious,  persistent  violation  of  law. 
These  are  the  only  walls.  They  are  not  built  of  stone 
and  mortar.  They  are  constructed  of  perverse  i)as- 
sions  ;  they  are  erected  of  wicked  wills.  Bad  natures 
build  them.  And  we  who  act  on  these  principles  of  inher- 
ent justice  are  human.  Do  you  tell  me  that  God  builds 
the  penitentiaries  of  the  eternities  simply  because  He 
wants  to  have  them  populated  with  a  j)ortion  of  the 
race  ?  Because  he  wants  to  see  so  many  unfortunates 
within  them  and  see  them  writhe?  I  object  to  any 
such  interpretation  of  the  ways  of  God.  ''As  the 
heavens  are  higher  than  the  earth  so  His  ways  are 
higher  than  ours," — higher  and  better  and  more  kind. 
No  chains  of  punishment  are  welded  save  for  wrists 
that  immerse  themselves  in  crime.  No  prison  walls 
save  for  those  who  would  be  dangerous  outside  of 
them.  No  separation  save  for  those  who  separate 
themselves. 

And  in  this  unerring  arbitrament  no  mistakes  are 
committed,  no  unjust  decisions  of  courts  and  juries 
can  distort  facts  or  change  virtue  into  crime.  The 
glad  news  has  just  reached  us  from  Kansas  that  the 


119 


brother-in-law  of  your  beloved  former  pastor  has  been 
shown,  by  satisfactory  evidence,  after  an  imprison- 
ment of  six  years,  to  be  an  innocent  man.  Nothing 
can  right  that  wrong.  Nothing  save  this.  The  mem- 
ory, deep  down  in  his  conscience,  that  those  prison 
walls'  have  left  upon  his  character  no  stain,  upon  his 
soul  not  one  dark  blot,  for,  during  all  these  years,  he 
was  separated  by  his  stainless  innocence  from  the 
guilt  and  criminality  around  him  by  an  infinite  re- 
move. No  mistakes  of  that  character  are  possible  in 
the  presence  of  the  eternities.  Unrepented  sin  is  the 
only  imprisonment.  A  bad  heart  the  only  hell. 
Tliere  will  be  no  pangs  In  the  penitentiaries  of  God 
save  of  those  who  must  say  with  Milton's  Satan  every 
one,  "Myself  am  hell." 

It  seems  to  me  that  society  ought  to  get  down  on 
its  knees  to  the  man  it  has  unjustly  imprisoned  by  its 
defective  processes  of  law,  its  imperfect  courts  and  ju- 
ries, and  say  :  I  can  never  atone  for  this  cruel  wrong, 
I  can  never  undo  this  crime  with  which  I  have  dark- 
ened, perhaps  destroyed,  your  life,  but  come  to  the 
warmest  place  in  my  heart,  and  live  in  my  deepest 
sympathies.  Let  me  atone  by  loving  !  In  the  pres- 
ence of  eternal  realities,  under  the  government  of  that 
Being  Who  makes  no  mistakes,  we  maybe  sure,  infal- 
libly sure,  that  no  lines  will  ever  be  drawn,  the  direc- 
tion of  which  we  do  not  trace,  trace  to  the  minutest 
detail,  in  the  present  time  and  the  earthly  life.  These 
years  that  are  rolling  on,  not  some  decree  in  eternity 
past,  not  some  stern  arbitrament  in  the  ages  ahead, 


120 


these  A^ars  an fi  wliat  we  are  thinking  and  what  we 
are  doing  within  them,  these  determine  the  issue,  and 
fix  onr  destiny,  and  these  only  in  the  solemn,  the 
fearful,  the  changeless  ''until." 

And  what  an  absolute  separation  that  is  !  One 
that  is  in  the  inmost  nature  of  things,  in  the  very 
warp  and  woof  of  our  natures.  Separated  from  each 
other  by  what  we  are.  What  a  separation  that  is  al- 
ready in  the  present  time.  We  try  to  get  over  those 
distances  between  each  other,  and  get  close  to  each 
other,  we  who  are  separated  far  by  nature,  but  it  is 
the  great  impossibility.  We  can't  do  it.  We  may 
live  in  the  same  houses,  work  in  the  same  stores,  sit 
in  the  same  churches,  and  we  are  wide  apart  as  the 
poles.  Between  a  man  whose  instincts  are  pure  and 
true  and  noble,  and  liis  next  door  neighbor  whose  pro- 
pensities are  all  perverse  there  is  an  unfathomable 
abyss.  No  plummet  can  sound  its  depths.  Between 
sweet  womanhood  and  her  sister  on  the  streets  there 
is  a  '■•great  gulf  fixedy  A  gulf  no  loving  heart  can 
cross.  Wealth  and  luxury  may  take  indigence  and 
want  by  the  hand,  the  reformer  and  the  philanthro- 
pist may  lay  hold  of  th"^  palm  that  is  black  with  crime, 
yes' that  is  red  with  blood,  but  in  that  close  contact 
of  person,  those  natures  are  millions  and  millions  of 
miles  away.  When  the  sympathizing,  loving  lips  of 
purity  give  the  kiss  to  the  brow  wrinkled  with  pollu- 
tion, stamped  with  defilement,  that  kiss  that  brings  the 
lips  so  closecannot  bring  those  natures  one  step  nearer 
to  each  other  in  the  inevitability  of  their  separation. 


121 


The  heart  of  the  Master  Went  out  proudly  and  warmly 
to  that  wanderer  from  the  streets,  as  her  tears  fell  so 
fast  upon  His  holy  feet.  His  sympathy  drew  Him  very 
close.  But  between  that  Masterand  that  woman  there 
was  an  infinite  remove,  until  she  repented.  Tears 
brought  them  together.  Tears  are,  after  all, the  might- 
iest enginery  in  this  universe.  They  bring  natures 
together.    They  unite  souls  and  God. 

If  this  separation  that  exists  in  the  inmost  na- 
ture of  things  were  made  by  some  outward  influence, 
that  influence  might  be  changed  and  the  act  undone — 
this  separation  cease.  If  God  had  made  it  by  some  de- 
cree of  the  past,  God  might-  reverse  it  sometime  in  the 
coming  days.  If  God  made  it  by  a  moment's  decision 
in  judgment,  some  where,  sometime,  He  might  relent, 
and  for  good  behaviour  commute  the  sentence  and 
set  us  free.  But,  no.  It  is  in  the  nature  of  things. 
In  the  texture  of  soul.  In  the  substance  of  being. 
Interwoven  in  our  thoughts;  inwrought  in  our  lives; 
intertwined  in  all  our  future.  Revealed  in  Ihe  solemn 
"until." 

I  do  not  know  of  a  sadder  word  than  that  in  all 
our  human  speech — separation.  Two  friends  knit  to- 
gether by  sweetest,  purest  ties,  and,  by  some  blow  of 
sudden  misuderstanding,  separated  for  all  the  years. 
The  youth  and  the  maiden  going  forth  from  the  home 
of  fond  affection  toother  interests  in  life,  the  home 
circle  broken,  the  Lived  and  the  dearones  separated — 
wrenched  apart.  And  oh  !  At  the  bed  side  of  the  be- 
loved— can  I  speak  of  it,  will  my  voice  serve  me  in 


112 


dreadful.  For  a  moment  it  makes  those  loving  hearts 
in  lieaven  weep.  But  only  for  a  moment,  for  they 
understand  the  ways  of  God  to  men,  and  they  bow, 
and  are  at  jieace.  But  the  rest  of  that  picture  I  will 
not  limn.  My  heart  fails  me.  My  pencil  droj^s  from 
my  hand.  I  turn  away.  And  while  it  lingers  like 
some  fearful  dream  I  ask  you,  Will  you  come  Will 
you  come  ? 


Separation. 

Math.  XIII:  30    Let  both  grow  together  until— 
^^,^^NTIL."    Then  they  shall  grow    together  no 
more.    Then  there  shall  be  separation,  final, 
^  1(  rever.    Wheat  and  tares  will  remain  apait 
thereafter  through  the  eternities. 

There  is  a  tremendous  sifting  process  going  on 
in  this  world  of  ours,  going  on  all  the  while,  going  on 
everywhere.  You  may  trace  it,  if  you  please,  from 
the  lowest  up  to  the  highest  orders  of  being  and  of 
life.  Everywhere  separation.  He  "whose  fan  is  in 
His  hand"  is  "thoroughly  purging  His  floor."  "The 
axe  is  laid  to  the  root  of  the  tree."  Begin  at  the  bot- 
tom. Take  the  lowest  stratum  of  material  existence. 
In  mechanics  and  in  the  arts  there  is  constant  and  inev- 
vitable  separation.  Nothing  can  be  done  without  it. 
We  cannot  use  theiron,  unless  we  separate  it  from  the 
slag.  We  cannot  turn  our  coin  into  gold,  unless  we 
burn  away  the  dross.  We  cannot  erect  our  buildings  of 
granite  and  stone,  unless  we  chisel  the  seams.  Ascend 
one  step,  and  we  meet  the  same  necessity.  Our  farm- 
ers cannot  bring  their  produce  into  market  unless  they 
have  a  thresher  and  a  fanning  mill.  They  have  got 
to  get  rid  of  the  chaff  and  the  husks,  before  they  can 
fill  our  granaries  and  enrich  our  produce  exchange. 
Taking  another  step,  the  whole  study  and  care  upon 


114 


our  stock  farms  is  to  secure  everywhere  the  survival 
of  the  fittest.  To  separate  the  finer  from  the  inferior 
grades.  Poor  from  good  blood.  The  superior  are 
lolling  in  the  meadows,  the  inferior  are  sent  to  the 
slaughter  house.  Or,  if  of  that  class  that  cannot  be 
eaten,  the  less  promising  are  harnessed  to  horse  cars, 
and  the  more  are  appareled  in  nickle  and  gilt.  I  re- 
fer to  city  horse  cars.  We  drive  very  respectable 
horses  before  them  up  here.  It  is  the  sifting  process 
that  is  going  on  everywhere  in  this  world  of  ours,  con- 
stantly, inevitably  as  it  seems,  inherent  in  the  very 
nature  of  things. 

Is  there  any  exception  to  this  law,  when  we 
come  to  man  ?  Is  not  this  race  to  which  we  belong 
being  sifted,  in  every  department  of  life,  in  every  de- 
main  of  action  ?  The  strong  and  the  vigorous  and  the 
manly  prevail.  The  weaker  go  to  the  wall.  It  is  true 
of  races.  It  is  true  of  men.  In  the  competition  of  bus- 
iness, here  and  there  one  becomes  a  millionaire,  ten 
thousand  by  his  side  become  pauj^ers.  In  politics,  one 
learns  the  trick  of  successful  manipulation,  comes  to 
comprehend  the  mystery  of  pulling  wires,  sits  in  the 
legislature,  occupies  some  chair  of  state;  others  in- 
comparably more  worthy  are  remanded  to  the  shades 
of  private  life.  In  the  professions,  one  in  a  decade 
shines  as  a  pole  star:  the  rest  hold  candles.  Is  not 
the  sifting  sure  %  Is  it  not  pervasive  \  Is  it  not  inev- 
itable as  well  ?  Is  it  not  a  law  imbedded  in  the  in- 
most nature  of  things  ?  This  world  isn't  arranged  by 
haphazard.    It  isn't  a  huge  box  of  letters  thrown 


115 


into  a  pile.  The  letters  are  spelled.  It  isn't  amass 
of  unhewn  stones  cast  up  into  a  heap;  it  is  a  building 
fitly  framed  too;ether.  "Order  is  heaven's  first  hxw.'" 
And  the  law  of  the  mother  country  up  yonder  stands 
first  in  the  statute  book  of  tliis  earthly  colony. 

And  so  when  you  come  to  the  sphere  of  morals, 
to  the  domain  of  religion,  you  are  prepared  to  pause 
a  moment  and  take  in  the  force  of  that  little  word  of 
five  letters — ^'■untt'l."  Here  as  everywhere  the  sift- 
ing process  must  go  onward.  Here  as  everywhere  sep- 
aration must  come.  It  is  in  the  nature  of  things.  It 
is  inevitable  in  the  order  of  this  univeree.  There  is 
nothing  about  it  that  is  arbitrary  or  wilful  on  the  part 
of  any  being  beyond  or  above  us.  No  blind  fatality 
is  pursuing  us.  No  "Mara,"  as  the  Indiaman 
dreams,  is  hotly  after  us.  No  chance  is  playing  with 
us.  Nothing  is  going  to  happen.  The  eternities  are  in 
our  hands.  A  man's  future  is  his  own  creation. 
He  makes  the  only  heaven  or  hell  he  ever  goes  to. 

Consider  that  parable  of  the  tares  a  moment.  In 
that  metaphor  God  is  the  owner  of  the  field.  The 
ownerof  that  field  did  not,  by  some  determined,  reso- 
lute act,  make  a  part  of  the  growth  of  that  field  wheat 
and  a  part  tares.  Neither  did  He  put  a  part  of  the 
growth  of  the  field  into  his  barns,  and  a  part  into  the 
fire,  indiscriminately.  He  put  a  part  into  his  barn 
and  a  part  into  the  fire  because  a  part  in  its  own  na- 
ture, and  by  its  own  inherent  processes  of  growth, 
was  wheat,  and  a  part,  by  the  same  inherent  processes 
was  tares.    And  in  the  discussion  that  is  coming  on 


116 


in  our  beloved  church,  that  is  going  to  be  settled  in 
christian  harmony  and  love,  it  is  going  to  be  under- 
stood that  Presbj  terianism  does  not  teach,  and,  how- 
ever stern  its  statements,  never  did  teach,  that  God 
makes  a  certain  part  of  the  race  wheat  and  a  certain 
part  tares,  and  then  at  last  stores  ujd  the  one  and  burns 
up  the  other. 

Neither  will  there  be  any  separation  when  the 
great  "until"  has  come,  save  that  which  has  been 
made  voluntarily  ere  that  final  moment  is  at  hand. 
The  sifting  is  taking  iilace  now.  The  fanning  mill  is 
working.  We  are  taking  our  places  to-day  for  the 
final  roll  call.  When  the  "until"  has  come  it  will 
simply  be  manifest  to  all  worlds  what  we  were  here — 
wheat  or  tares.  The  one  will  be  burned.  The  other 
will  be  gathered  into  barns.  The  one  burned,  because 
that  is  the  nature  of  tares.  The  other  in  the  granaries 
of  God,  because  that  is  where  wheat  belongs. 

Or,  take  that  other  judgment  scene,  as  our  Sav- 
iour deincts  it  so  thrillingly  in  the  25th  of  Math.  He 
uses  the  language  there:  '"He  shall  separate  them." 
"When  the  Son  of  Manshiill  come  in  His  glory  and 
all  the  holy  angels  with  Him,  then  shall  He  sit  upon 
the  throne  of  His  glory,  and  before  Him  shall  be  gath- 
ered all  nations.  And  He  shall  separate  them  as  the 
shepherd  divides  the  sheep  from  the  goats."  How 
does  the  shepherd  do  that  ?  Simply  by  getting  the 
sheep  on  one  side  because  they  are  sheep,  and  the 
goats  on  the  other  because  they  are  goats.  There  is 
nothing  arbitrary.    Nothing  wilful.  It  is  not  because 


117 


the  shepherd  feels  at  one  time  like  putting  some  an- 
imals on  one  side,  and  then  at  another  feels  like  put- 
ting some  on  the  other.  I  don't  think  we  can  get  this 
truth  too  positively  or  too  deeply  into  our  conception 
of  the  ways  of  God.  I  believe  it  is  fundamental  and 
all  inclusive.  God  made  no  separation  in  eternity 
past.  He  did  not  decree  so  many  sheepand  so  many 
goats,  and  make  them  sheep  and  goats.  He  does  not 
separate  them  in  the  end,  save  as  they  separate  them- 
selves by  being,  of  their  own  accord,  sheep  or  goats. 

Or  to  lay  aside  the  figure  that  contains  a  little 
embarrassment  in  the  physical  difference  of  genus, 
God  did  not  separate  humanity  years  ago  by  decree- 
ing that  so  many  should  be  good  and  so  many  should 
be  bad,  making  them  good  or  bad.  God  will  not  sep- 
arate humanity  at  last,  setting  so  many  on  His  right 
hand  and  so  many  on  His  left,  because  he  wants  so 
many  on  that  side  and  so  many  on  the  other.  He 
will  do  that  ultimately,  because  so  many  have,  in  the 
sifting  processes  of  time,  hei-e  where  the  separation  is 
going  on  every  day,  taken  the  upward  path,  and  so 
many  have  followed  the  down  grade.  As  the  posture 
of  their  souls,  as  the  attitude  of  their  lives,  have  cho- 
sen good  or  loved  evil.  e  sheep  after  the  heavenly 
pattern,  or  goats  after  the  satanic  design. 

In  society,  for  its  protection  and  defense,  we  build 
houses  of  refuge,  reformatories,  penitentiaries,  State 
prisons.  We  don't  build  them  simply  that  we  may 
put  a  certain  number  of  our  fellow  men  within  their 
walls,  for  the  sake  of  having  them  inhabited.  We 


118 


build  them  that  the  criminal  classes  who  choose  crime, 
who  revel  in  evil  courses,  who  imperil  society,  who 
are  dangerous  to  have  abroad,  may  be  securely  barred 
and  bolted  within  them.  Because  they  are  criminals, 
and  because  society  must  be  protected,  and  our  rights 
of  person  and  property  secured.  The  criminals  who 
are  within  the  walls  make  that  separation  from  those 
who  are  without  them,  by  their  criminal  courses,  by 
their  wilful,  malicious,  persistent  violation  of  law. 
These  are  the  only  walls.  They  are  not  built  of  stone 
and  mortar.  They  are  constructed  of  perverse  ]ias- 
sions  ;  they  are  erected  of  wicked  wills.  Bad  natures 
build  them.  And  we  who  act  on  these  principles  of  inher- 
ent justice  are  human.  Do  you  tell  me  that  God  builds 
the  penitentiaries  of  the  eternities  simply  because  He 
wants  to  have  them  populated  with  a  portion  of  the 
race  ?  Because  he  wants  to  see  so  many  unfortunates 
within  them  and  see  tli^m  writhe?  I  object  to  any 
such  interpretation  of  the  ways  of  God.  ''As  the 
heavens  are  higher  than  the  earth  so  His  ways  are 
higher  than  ours," — higher  and  better  and  more  kind. 
No  chains  of  iiunishment  are  welded  save  for  wrists 
that  immerse  themselves  in  crime.  No  prison  walls 
save  for  those  who  would  be  dangerous  outside  of 
them.  No  separation  save  for  those  who  separate 
themselves. 

And  in  this  unerring  arbitrament  no  mistakes  are 
committed,  no  unjust  decisions  of  courts  and  juries 
can  distort  facts  or  change  virtue  into  crime.  The 
glad  news  has  just  reached  us  from  Kansas  that  the 


119 


brother-in-law  of  your  beloved  former  pastor  has  been 
shown,  by  satisfactory  evidence,  after  an  imprison- 
ment of  six  years,  to  be  an  innocent  man.  Nothing 
can  right  that  wrong.  Nothing  save  this.  The  mem- 
ory, deep  down  in  his  conscience,  that  those  prison 
walls  have  left  upon  his  character  no  stain,  upon  his 
soul  not  one  dark  blot,  for,  during  all  these  years,  he 
was  separated  by  his  stainless  innocence  from  the 
guilt  and  criminality  around  him  by  an  infinite  re- 
move. No  mistakes  of  that  character  are  possible  in 
the  presence  of  the  eternities.  Unrepented  sin  is  the 
only  imprisonment.  A  bad  heart  the  only  hell. 
Tliere  will  be  no  pangs  in  the  penitentiaries  of  God 
save  of  those  who  must  say  with  Milton's  Satan  every 
one,  "Myself  am  hell." 

It  seems  to  me  that  society  ought  to  get  down  on 
its  knees  to  the  man  it  has  unjustly  imprisoned  by  its 
defective  processes  of  law,  its  imperfect  courts  and  ju- 
ries, and  say  :  I  can  never  atone  for  this  cruel  wrong, 
I  can  never  undo  this  crime  with  which  I  have  dark- 
ened, perhaps  destroyed,  your  life,  but  come  to  the 
warmest  place  in  my  heart,  and  live  in  my  deepest 
sympathies.  Let  me  atone  by  loving  !  In  the  pres- 
ence of  eternal  realities,  under  the  government  of  that 
Being  Who  makes  no  mistakes,  we  maybe  sure,  infal- 
libly sure,  that  no  lines  will  ever  be  drawn,  the  direc- 
tion of  which  we  do  not  trace,  trace  to  the  minutest 
detail,  in  the  present  time  and  the  earthly  life.  These 
years  that  are  rolling  on,  not  some  decree  in  eternity 
past,  not  some  stern  arbitrament  in  the  ages  ahead, 


120 


thesp  ynars  and  what  we  are  thinking  and  what  we 
are  doing  within  them,  these  determine  the  issue,  and 
fix  onr  destiny,  and  these  only  in  the  solemn,  the 
fearful,  the  changeless  ''until." 

And  what  an  absolute  separation  that  is  !  One 
that  is  in  the  inmost  nature  of  things,  in  the  very 
warp  and  woof  of  our  natures.  Separated  from  each 
other  by  what  we  are.  What  a  separation  that  is  al- 
ready in  the  present  time.  We  try  to  get  over  those 
distances  between  each  other,  and  get  close  to  each 
other,  we  who  are  separated  far  by  nature,  but  it  is 
the  great  impossibility.  We  can't  do  it.  We  may 
live  in  the  same  houses,  work  in  the  same  stores,  sit 
in  the  same  churches,  and  we  are  wide  apart  as  the 
poles.  Between  a  man  whose  instincts  are  pure  and 
true  and  noble,  and  his  next  door  neighbor  whose  pro- 
pensities are  all  perverse  there  is  an  unfathomable 
abyss.  No  plummet  can  sound  its  depths.  Between 
sweet  womanhood  and  her  sister  on  the  streets  there 
is  a  '■'great  gulf  fixedy  A  gulf  no  loving  heart  can 
cross.  Wealth  and  luxury  may  take  indigence  and 
want  by  the  hand,  the  reformer  and  the  philanthro- 
pist may  lay  hold  of  the  palm  that  is  black  with  crime, 
yes' that  is  red  with  blood,  but  in  that  close  contact 
of  person,  those  natures  are  millions  and  millions  of 
miles  away.  When  the  sympathizing,  loving  lips  of 
purity  give  the  kiss  to  the  brow  wrinkled  with  pollu- 
tion, stamped  with  defilement,  that  kiss  that  brings  the 
lips  so  closecannot  bring  those  natures  one  step  nearer 
to  each  other  in  the  inevitability  of  their  separation. 


121 


The  heart  of  the  Master  went  out  proudly  and  warmly 
to  that  wanderer  from  the  streets,  as  her  tears  fell  so 
fast  upon  His  holy  feet.  His  sympathy  drew  Him  very 
close.  But  between  that  Masterand  that  woman  there 
was  an  infinite  remove,  until  she  repented.  Tears 
brought  them  together.  Tears  are,  after  all,  the  might- 
iest enginery  in  this  universe.  They  bring  natures 
together.    They  lanite  souls  and  Grod. 

If  this  separation  that  exists  in  the  inmost  na- 
ture of  things  were  made  by  some  outward  influence, 
that  influence  might  be  changed  and  the  act  undone — 
this  separation  cease .  If  God  had  made  it  by  some  de- 
cree of  the  past,  Grod  might-  reverse  it  sometime  in  the 
coming  days.  If  God  made  it  by  a  moment's  decision 
in  judgment,  some  where,  sometime.  He  might  relent, 
and  for  good  behaviour  commute  the  sentence  and 
set  us  free.  But,  no.  It  is  in  the  nature  of  things. 
In  the  texture  of  soul.  In  the  substance  of  being. 
Interwoven  in  our  thoughts;  inwrought  in  our  lives; 
intertwined  in  all  our  future.  Revealed  in  Xhe  solemn, 
"until." 

I  do  not  know  of  a  sadder  word  than  that  in  all 
our  human  speech — separation.  Two  friends  knit  to- 
gether by  sweetest,  purest  ties,  and,  by  some  blow  of 
sudden  misuderstanding,  separated  iov  the  years. 
The  youth  and  the  maiden  going  forth  from  the  home 
of  fond  affection  to  other  interests  in  life,  the  home 
circle  broken,  the  h^ved  and  the  dear  ones  seiiarated— 
wrenched  apart.  And  oh  !  At  the  bed  side  of  the  be- 
loved—can I  speak  of  it,  will  my  voice  serve  me  in 


122 


that  chamber  of  death  ?  But  to  all  these  there  comes 
alleviation.  In  the  sorrow  there  is  assilagement.  In 
the  darkness,  light.  These  separations  are  not  in  the 
natnre  of  things.  They  are  not  inwrought  in  life  and 
being.  And  so  they  may  easily  be  erased,  and  these 
separations  cease.  Those  friends  may  return  from  their 
estrangement,  for  misundersladings  can  be  corrected, 
and  the  natures  are  allied.  The  son  and  the  daughter 
may  come  back  and  the  desolated  hearth  be  relighted. 
Our  loved  ones  taken  from  us  by  the  last  sad  visitor 
may  be  given  back  to  us  in  the  glad  reunions  of  the 
skies.  At  these  bed  sides  we  part,  but  oh,  to  meet 
again  !  These  separations  are  only  on  the  surface. 
Only  on  the  edges.  As  fleeting  as  time.  Like  the 
swift  post.  Not  for  long.  Not  for  long.  But  that 
separation  which  is  working  out  in  character,  that  is 
inhering  more  and  more  in  the  inmost  nature  of  things, 
that  is  separating  men  and  women  for  the  eternities, 
to  the  sadness  of  that  thought  I  can  see  no  alleviation, 
to  that  cloud  I  can  discern  no  silver  lining.  When  a 
mother  and  her  child  are  thus  separated,  separated  by 
nature,  they  can  never  get  together  again.  Friends 
thus  severed  may  never  reunite.  There  is  no  cohesive 
power  in  this  universe  that  can  bring  natures  together 
that,  in  their  inmost  essence,  are  apart.  No  centripe- 
tal power  that  can  draw  to  itself  that  which  in  its 
own  inherent  centrifugence  will  fly  away,  and  go  off 
into  the  infinite  spaces. 

When  God  says  to  a  soul:  "Come,"  He  sim- 
ply opens  the  way  for  that  soul  to  take  its  own  course 


123 


and,  in  its  allegiance  and  its  loyalty  and  its  love,  it 
goes  up  at  once  to  God.  When  God  says  to  a  soul 
"Depart,"  He  does  the  same  thing.  He  lets  that  soul 
take  its  own  course,  follow  its  own  choice.  And,  by 
the  irresistible  propulsion  of  its  own  nature,  it  goes 
into  the  darkness  and  into  the  night.  Anything  to 
get  away  from  God. 

I  may  speak  to  you  some  time  about  the  process 
of  this  separation  that  is  now  working  out  in  human 
life  for  all  the  future.  Let  us  remember  to-day  the 
fact.  If  separation  comes  at  last,  we  make  it.  Not 
fate.  Not  God.  Not  bad  luck.  We,  with  the  hearts 
that  beat  in  these  bosoms,  with  the  immortal  spirits 
that  somewhere  in  these  bodies  inhere.  In  the  final 
analysis  we  shall  be  all  self  made  men  and  women. 
The  process  of  construction  is  our  own,  under  God. 
We  are  our  own  architects.  We  build  mansions,  or 
dig  great  gulfs.  We  acquire  the  tastes  and  the  hab- 
its of  the  citizens  of  the  New  Jerusalem,  or  we  get 
into  the  ways  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  pit.  We  step 
into  the  companionship  of  the  pure  and  the  good  and 
the  true,  or  we  court  the  society  of  the  vicious,  the 
abandoned,  the  depraved,  of  all  ages  and  times.  God 
has  never  done  a  thing  to  prevent  us  from  our  own 
untrameled  choice.  He  has  never  put  a  pebble  in 
our  way  to  hinder,  and  has  done  every  thing  possible  to 
help.  And  when  the  great  "until"  has  come  He  will 
simply  lift  the  veil,  uncover  the  secresy  of  hearts,  and 
show  to  the  world  what  we  were  and  where  we  pleased 
to  go.  Every  day  we  live  tells  on  the  eternities.  Each 


124 


thought  we  think  moulds  our  hereafters.  Each  deed 
is  deathless.  We  hold  in  our  hands  two  worlds. 
Which,  which,  which  shall  we  let  go  ? 


JUST  OPENED. 
The  New  Eurniture  Store. 

FULL  STOCK  OF  FIRST-CLASS  FURNITURE  IN  ALL 
THE  LATEST  STYLES. 

GREER  &  RILEY, 

MAIN  STREET,  OPPOSITE  PEARL  ST.,  SANDY  HILL,  N.  Y. 


AT  IT  AGAIN. 

m  Ho  niLE/^^E  mm. 

THEODORE  U.  CROSS. 


Some  of  the  coffee  you  luiy  is  so  weak  that  it  wouldn't  run  dovTii  deviot 
hill.    Some  is  so  stroni;  that  it  would  aliuost  run  up.    It  has  plenty 
of  strength  but  no   i  ink   rrAvoK.     Good  Coffee  has 

both    srUKM.lll    ANI>  FI.AVOK. 

QTY  STORE  COMPANY,  90  Main  St.,  Sandy  Hill, 

Sells  the  finest  of  hk.h  i.kaio.  i dfff.k  and  high  class 
(iitocEKii>  of  all  kinds. 


Is  always  a  great  bargain  month  at  GALLAGHER'S. 

See  that  you  take  advantage  of  these  things  and  wear  good 
clothes  at  a  very  small  price.    Bargains  all  this 
month  in  all  dei)artiiients. 


GALLAGHER,  The  Originator  of  Low  Prices, 
88  /ICiain  St.,  SaiiDvi  Ibill. 


^    Power  of  Kindness.  ^ 


'^^HE   subject   to-day  is  a   brief  poem,  recently 
brought,  by  a  friend,  to  my  attention,  the  stan- 
zas of  w  hich  I  will  read. 

We  trust  in  man  to  save  him; 

Make  him  think  he  is  a  man; 
Then  the  good  that  is  within  him; 

Strives  to  do  the  best  it  can. 

Call  him  rascal,  and  we  drive  him 
F'rom  all  goodness  by  the  ban  ; 

And  the  bad  that  is  within  him 
Strives  to  do  the  worst  it  can. 

Distrust  never  yet  has  gathered 

One  poor  soul  to  God  and  life ; 
But  has  often  further  forced  him 

On  to  hatred  and  to  strife. 

As  man  thinketh,  so  he  can  be  ; 

Make  him  think  he  can  be  great, 
And  the  best  that  is  within  him 

Strives  to  reach  the  wished-for  state. 

The  author  of  these  lines  I  do  not  know.  You  will 
agree  with  me  that  he  adds  to  the  capacity  of  rhyme 
not  a  little  of  the  knowledge  of  human  nature.  Dr. 
Fennel,  so  long  the  beloved  pastor  at  Glens  Falls, 
delivering  a  charge  to  a  people,  at  the  installation  of 


2 


THE  POWER  OF  KINDNESS. 


a  pastor,  impressed  most  forcibly  upon  their  minds 
the  ease  with  which  they  could  talk  their  minister 
up,  or,  as  surelv,  talk  him  down.  The  poem  I  have 
read  suggests  the  same  thought,  as  of  universal 
application.  It  is  as  true  of  everybod}'  as  it  is  of 
pastors,  that  we  can  talk  them  either  way — talk 
them  up  or  talk  them  down.  The  talk  of  people  is 
the  atmosphere  in  which,  as  social  beings,  we  are 
compelled  to  live.  It  makes  all  the  difference  in  the 
•world  whether  the  air  is  bracing  and  healthful,  full 
of  generous  sentiments  and  kind  words  ;  or  whether 
it  is  malarial  and  feverous  with  bitter  innuendo,  and 
harsh  criticism,  rising  from  the  murk\'  marshes  of 
gossip  and  of  slander.  Breathing  the  pure  air  of 
kindness,  men  and  women  a  re  strong  and  courageous 
for  the  best  that  is  in  them.  Inhaling  the  fetid  air  of 
the  marshes,  they  are  driven  many  times,  as  b}'  a 
deadK"  disease,  to  base  and  wicked  courses,  to  all 
that  is  vilest  and  worst. 

Permit  me  to  premise  that,  in  what  I  shall  have 
to  say  about  charity,  and  kindly  thoughts,  and, 
gentlest  consideration,  in  this  present  discourse,  I 
intend  no  extenuation  of  sin,  and  no  palliation  of 
what  is  wrong,  and,  because  wrong,  utterly  hateful 
and  detestable.  The  exceeding  sinfulness  of  sin  lies 
at  the  basis  of  all  morals.  We  have  no  right  to 
teach  ethics  without  this  as  a  starting  point.  Sin  is 
that  which  God  hates,  and  we  too,  if  we  are  in  any 
kind  of  aUiance  with  Him.  The  interesting  feature 
in  the  late  political  campaign  was  its  claim  to  a  high 
moral  character.    The  one  side  were  asking  the  suf- 


THE  POWER  OF  KINDNESS. 


3 


iVages  of  the  people  because  the  crimes  on  the  canals 
had  been  so  gross,  and  the  other  because  crime  was 
embodied  so  offensively  in  Croker.  Both  sides  were 
appealing  to  the  instinctive  consciousness,  deep 
down  in  our  natures,  that  evil  doing  is  a  hateful 
thing,  and  wherever  we  find  it,  in  whatever  political 
partv  or  clique,  ought  to  be  voted  against.  Any 
amount  of  charity  for  the  sinner,  but  no  patience 
with  the  sin.    This  it  seems  to  me,  is  essential  ethics. 

The  great  distinction,  as  I  conceive  it,  between 
Judaism  and  Christianity  was  in  the  clearness  and 
positive ness  with  which  this  separation  was  made 
b}'  Christianit3%  while  it  was  often  overlooked  and 
forgotten  by  Judaism.  Judaism,  many  times,  in 
order  to  get  at  the  sin,  slew  the  sinner.  This  seemed 
to  be  the  only  way  in  the  earlier  centuries;  and  man 
seemed  so  identified  with  his  wrong  doing  that  the 
only  way  to  get  at  his  iniquity  was  to  extinguish 
him.  The  only  way  that  the  prevailing  abomina- 
tions that  were  polluting  this  fair  earth,  so  fresh 
from  the  hand  of  God,  could  be  abolished,  was  by 
abolishing  the  race  that  produced  them,  and  so,  all, 
but  eight,  were  drowned.  If  there  had  been  ten 
righteous  men  within  them,  that  would  have  saved 
Sodom  and  Gomorrah.  As  there  were  not,  the  only 
way  to  dispense  with  Sodom  and  Gomorrah  was  to 
burn  up  the  people  who  made  them  what  they  were. 
Nadab's  and  Abihu's  sin  can  be  reached  only  by  the 
extinguishment  of  Nadab  and  Abihu.  Korah, 
Dathan  and  Abiram's  rebellion  is  punished  only 
when  the  earth  opens  and  swallows  the  rebels.  The 


4 


THE  POWER  OF  KINDNESS. 


instinct  thirty-five  years  ago  that  so  many  times  snid 
"Hang  Jeff  Davis"  was  on  this  principle.  The  rebel- 
lion was  to  be  punished  in  the  person  of  the  rebel. 

The  wars  with  the  Canaanites — the  cruelties  and 
the  seeming  crimes  against  humanit}^  on  the  part  of 
the  heaven-appointed  conquerors — what  is  the 
explanation  ?  Why  simply  this.  That  in  that  age 
of  the  world,  and  at  that  period  in  the  evolution  of 
humanity,  it  was  impossible  to  sepHrate  the  sinner 
from  his  sin,  and  the  only  wav  to  make  men  better 
was  to  kill  off  a  large  portion  of  them,  and  begin 
again.  As  civilization  advances,  and  man  begins  to 
get  a  little  way  from  his  sin,  begins  to  have  an  indi- 
viduality apart  from  his  sin,  so  that  the  sin  and  the 
sinner  begin  to.be  two  distinct  and  separate  enti- 
ties, a  new  principle  is  introduced,  and,  what  was  for- 
gotten so  many  times  by  thejudaism  of  our  Saviour's 
time,  characterizes  the  Old  Testament  ethics.  A 
distinction,  sharply  accentuated,  clearly  cut,  is  now 
drawn  between  the  sinner  and  his  sin.  The  morals 
of  the  Old  Testament  are  thus  immeasurably  exalted 
above  the  custodians  of  the  Old  Testament  who,  in 
our  Saviour's  day,  prided  themselves  on  their  ortho- 
doxy. They  sat  in  Moses'  seat  and  had  not  an  iota 
of  Moses'  spirit.  In  the  LVth  of  Isaiah,  we  have 
the  clear  cut  distinction  as  the  announcement  of  Old 
Testament  ethics.  "Let  the  wicked  forsake  his  way, 
and  the  unrighteous  man  his  thoughts,  and  let  him 
return  unto  the  Lord  and  He  will  have  mercy  upon 
him,  and  to  our  God,  for  He  will  abundantly- par- 
don."   Here  the  sin  and  the  sinner  are  as  distinctly 


THE  POWER  OF  KIXDNRSS. 


5 


n])ai-t  as  the  poles.  They  are  two  wholly  separate 
entities.  The  one  is  to  be  aiianrloned  and  cast  out. 
The  other  is  to  be  re<ienerated  and  saved.  The  sin  is 
to  he  annihilated.  The  sinner  is  to  be  ii])lifted  to 
God.  See  in  Ezek.  xviii.  The  entire  chapter  is 
devoted  to  the  confirmation  ot  the  central  truth  of 
all  ethics,  that  a  man's  morrd  relation  consists  in  his 
present  attitude  tow  ard  sin.  It  does  n(^t  <^o  to  the 
vital  issue  that  a  man's  ancestors  were  virtuous  or 
vicious.  "The  son  shall  not  bear  the  inicjuitv  of  the 
father."  Neither  does  a  man's  |»ast  determine  his 
present.  What  he  was  has  nothin;^-  to  do,  in  the 
ultimate  decision,  with  what  he  is.  "If  the  wicked 
will  turn  from  all  his  sins  which  he  hath  connnitted, 
and  keej)  .-dl  my  statutes,  and  do  th^t  which  is  law- 
ful find  I'iyht,  he  shall  surelv  live,  he  shall  not  die. 
All  his  transj»ressions  that  hehalh  committed,  thev 
shall  not  be  mentioned  unto  him  :  in  his  ri<ihteous- 
ness  that  he  hath  done  he  shall  live.  "  "The  right- 
eousness of  the  righteous  shall  be  upon  him,  and  the 
wickedness  of  the  wicked  shall  be  u]K)n  him."  And 
the  reason  so  clearly  announced  by  the  jjrojjhet  is 
that  when  a  man  turns  awtiv  from  sin  he  is  sepji- 
rated  from  it  just  as  a  brand,  plucked  out,  is  saved 
trom  the  burning.  The  sinner  is  cis  distinct  from  the 
sin  as  the  brand  from  the  fire  from  which  it  has  been 
plucked.  "Because  he  considereth,  and  turneth  awav 
from  all  his  transgressions  that  he  hath  committed, 
he  shall  surely  live,  he  shall  not  die.  "  This  essential 
ethics  of  their  own  Scriptures  scribe  and  pharisee  of 
our  Saviour's  day  had  forgotten,  and  so  they  were 


r 


6 


THE  POWER  OF  KINDNESS. 


confoundiTig,  in  their  treatment  of  the  offender,  the 
sinner  and  his  sin.  Their  way  oi  visiting  with  ven- 
geance the  one  was  by  blotting  out  the  other.  Their 
way  of  abolishing  moral  disease  was  by  killing  the 
morally  sick.  A  man  wouldn't  be  sick  any  more,  if 
they  stoned  him  hard  enough.  The  New  Teacher, 
before  whom  they  stood  in  amaze.  He  who  "taught 
as  one  having  authority,  and  not  as  the  scribes," 
simply  went  back  to  the  principles  of  their  own 
prophets,  and  resurrected  the  forgotten  basis  of  all 
true  morals,  that  the  sinner  and  his  sin  are  two  very 
different  entities  and  that,  in  the  highest  ethics,  the 
one  is  ultimately  to  be  saved  hy  his  separation  from 
the  other,  and  b}^  the  extinction  of  sin  out  of  his 
range  of  thought  and  atmosphere  of  life.  In  this 
restitution  of  the  lost  chord,  in  the  harmonv  of  essen- 
tial ethics,  it  was  intensely  true,  as  he  said :  "I  am 
not  come  to  destroy  the  law  and  the  prophets,  but 
to  fulfil." 

Do  you  know  that  with  the  tenderest.  gentlest 
heart  in  His  bosom  that  ever  beat,  the  most  loving 
nature  within  Him  that  ever  went  out  to  man,  no 
moralist  of  the  ages  ever  entertained  such  a  glaring 
indignation,  such  a  consuming  hatred,  of  sin?  He 
saw  it  the  quickest.  He  denounced  it  the  most 
unqualifiedly.  And  he  punished  it  with  the  besom  of 
His  swift  destruction.  That  "generation  of  vipers" 
whom  He  saw  through  with  eagle  glance,  shrank 
away  from  His  presence  feeling  the  mighty  weight 
of  His  scathing  lash.  This  was  the  attitude  of  the 
Master  toward  sin.     But  the  moment  he  traced  an 


THE  POWER  OF  KINDNESS. 


7 


emotion  in  a  human  soul,  a  first  uprising  of  desire, 
an  earliest  breathing  of  aspiration,  away  fi-om  sin, 
then  the  two  were  at  once  distinguished;  the  dif- 
ference between  the  Nazarene  and  the  Jewish  scribe 
was  clearly  accentuated  ;  and  whom  the  scribe  would 
destro}'  in  order  to  get  at  his  sin,  the  Moralist  from 
Galilee  would  save  to  get  him  awa_v  from  his  sin. 
He  was,  as  the  scribes  and  pharisees  charged  so 
angrily.  He  was  indeed  "the  friend  of  publicans  and 
sinners."  He  was  their  "Friend"  just  as  scribe  and 
pharisee  were  their  enemies.  The  moment  publican 
or  sinner  stood  arrayed,  by  an  emotion  of  penitence, 
against  sin,  that  moment  the  Master  blessed  him, 
while  scribe  and  pharisee  cursed.  At  that  point  this 
new  Moralist  would  save  them  from  their  sin.  Right 
there  scribe  and  pharisee  would  annihilate  them  with 
their  sin.  And  so  the  issue  was  joined.  To  scribe 
and  pharisee  Jesus  was  a  participant  in  men's  sins. 
In  the  mind  of  Jesus  scribe  and  pharisee  were  hypo- 
crites and  dissemblers,  "shutting  up  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,"  "neithei  entering  in  (themselves)  nor  suffer- 
ing them  that  would  enter  to  go  in."  From  a 
scribe's  and  pharisee's  standpoint,  declarations  such 
as  these  were  unintelligible.  They  were  an  unknown 
tongue.  "They  that  are  whole  need  not  a  physician, 
but  they  that  are  sick."  "I  am  come  not  to  call  the 
righteous  but  sinners  to  repentance."  "The  son  of 
man  is  come  to  seek  and  to  save  them  that  are  lost." 
"There  is  joy  in  heaven  over  one  sinner  that  repent- 
eth  more  than  over  ninet3'-nine  just  persons  that 
need  no  repentance."     Such  language  was  revolu- 


8 


THE  POWER  OF  KINDNESS. 


tionarv.  The  Xazarcne  was  an  Iconoclast.  This 
axe  tliat  was  laid  at  iheroot  of  the  tree,  was  cutting 
up  ever\  tliiiiii.  This  fan,  with  which  He  could 
thoroughlv  ])urge  His  floor,  would  blow  aw;iv  the 
whole  building.  And  so  thev  stood,  Master  and 
Jewish  scribe,  during  those  three  vears,  at  swords' 
points.  So  thev  were,  in  their  natures,  always  in 
hostile  array.  That  woman,  caught  in  the  very  act, 
scribe  and  ]>hansce  would  stone.  To  that  woman 
Jesus  would  say  :  "Neither  do  I  condemn  thee;  go  and 
sin  no  more."  He  could  say  the  word  because  He 
saw  down  into  her  soul  and  knew  that  she  would 
obey  the  command,  "sin  no  more."  Those  j^retended 
successors  of  Moses  would  have  left  that  Samaritan 
wonuui  at  tlie  \Aell,  and  Zaccheus  uj)  in  the  tree. 
The  Christ  would  seize  the  oi)]jortunitv  to  save  a 
citv  full  ol  Samaritans.  He  would  call  down  the 
other  with  the  glad  assurance  that  "this  day  is  sal- 
vation come  to  this  house."  It  was  a  difterence,  ^'ou 
see,  of  nature.  It  was  a  contrast  of  constitutional 
temperament.  The  one,  vilest  of  sinners,  cared  not 
lor  sinners;  the  Other,  sinless,  saved  them.  He  looked 
for  the  good  that  was  in  men.  Aristotle  was,  on 
one  occasion,  rebuked  for  giving  alms  to  an  unwor- 
thy person.  He  replied  ;  "I  gave;  but  it  was  to  man- 
kind." 

Among  the  legends  of  our  Lord  there  is  one  that 
He  saw  in  the  marketplace  ateventide  a  large  crowd 
of  peo])le  looking  intently  at  some  object,  and  con- 
versing excitedly  over  it.  Drawing  nearer.  He  saw 
that  it  was  a  dead  dog,  with  a  halter  about  his 


THE  POWER  OF  KINDNESS. 


9 


neck,  with  which  he  seemed  to  have  been  dragged 
through  the  streets.  A  viler  object  could  hardly 
meet  the  eye.  The  people  were  giving  utterance 
to  their  unrestrained  disgust.  One  said,  "Ah,  it 
]jollutes  the  air."  Another,  "How  long  shall  this 
foul  beast  offend  our  sight?"  "Look  at  his  torn 
hide"  said  a  third,  "one  could  not  even  cut  a  shoe 
out  of  it."  "And  his  ears,"  said  a  fourth,  "all  drag- 
gled and  torn."  "No  doubt,"  said  a  fifth,  a  genuine 
Pharisee,  "he  has  been  hanged  for  thieving."  A 
Pharisee  would  discover  immorality  even  in  a  dog. 
Jesiis  listened,  looked  upon  the  abused,  maltreated 
brute,  and  said,  "Pearls  are  not  equal  to  the  white- 
ness of  his  teeth." 

In  this  atmosphere  of  the  Master's  spirit,  we 
revert  to  our  poem  once  more. 

"We  trust  in  man  to  save  Iiim  ; 

Make  him  think  he  is  a  man  ; 
Then  the  g-ood  that  is  witliin  him  ; 

Strives  to  do  the  best  it  can." 

"Love  believeth  all  things."  "Love  thinketh  no 
evil."  "Love  rejoiceth  not  in  iniquity,  but  rejoiceth  in 
the  truth."  If  we  go  to  our  fellow  man,  in  great 
temptation,  overwhelmed  perhaps  and  overcome  ;  if 
we  go  to  him  in  this  spirit,  having  faith  in  him,  the 
spirit  within  us  will  be  an  inspiration  to  him,  it  will 
draw  out  always  the  best  that  is  within  him.  Our 
teachers  will  recognize  this  as  an  essential  principle 
of  discipline  in  the  school  room.  There  must  be  faith 
that  there  is  something  good  in  a  scholar,  or  he  is  a 
lost  case.    In  our  prisons  and  penitentiaries,  this  is 


10 


THE  POWER  OF  KINDNESS. 


the  basis  of  all  measures  of  reform,  that,  in  our 
criminal  classes,  there  is  some  element  of  good,  and 
that  faith  can  build  upon  it,  and,  b\'  its  dynamic 
force,  make  them  better  men.  In  societ}'^  todav  there 
are  multitudes  around  us,  touching  our  lives  onevery 
side,  who  are  no  longer  scholars  in  the  school  room, 
for  they  are  men  and  women  now  ;  who  never  have 
been  in  jail ;  but  in  whom,  if  we  have  a  degree  of  confi- 
dence, if  \ve])reserve  our  faith,  vveimplant  the  noblest 
impulses  of  which  they  are  capable,  whom  we  inspire 
to  the  best  that  is  in  them,  w  hom  we  may  lead  with 
a  gentle,  loving  hand  out  of  prison  houses  of  discour- 
agement, out  of  penitentiaries  of  hopelessness  and 
despair,  into  liberty  and  into  light.  If,  in  our 
reformatory  institutions,  it  is  the  spirit  of  the  age  to 
conduct  this  ameliorating  work  for  the  vicious  and 
the  criminal  classes,  then  I  say  it  will  be  a  good 
thing,  outside  of  reformatory  institutions,  to  have  a 
little  consideration  for  comparatively  respectable 
men  and  women,  who  are  tempted  and,  it  may  be, 
led  astray  in  life.  Underneath  the  evil  there  is  good. 
Let  us  find  it,  and,  by  s\^mpathy  and  kindly 
thoughts,  let  us  call  it  forth. 

A  rough  looking  man  brought  his  boy  to  school, 
and  left  him  with  the  request  that  the  teachers  should 
see  if  they  could  do  anything  for  him,  because  of  all 
the  bad  boys  his  father  believed  him  to  be  the  worst. 
One  da}^  as  the  teacher  was  passing  by,  he  laid  his 
hand  gently  on  the  boy's  shoulder,  when  the  boy 
shuddered  and  winced.  "What  is  the  matter?"  said 
the  teacher.  "I  thought  you  wasgoingto  strike  me," 


THE  POWER  OF  KINDNESS. 


11 


said  the  boy.  "Why  should  I  strike  you?"  "Because 
I  am  a  bad  I)()y."  "Who  says  3'ou  area  bad  boy?" 
"Father  says  I  am  a  bad  boy,  and  mother  saA^s  so, 
and  every  body  says  so."  "But  you  are  not  a  bad 
boy.  I  do  not  think  you  are,"  and  the  teacher  passed 
on.  The  bo}-  became,  from  that  hour,  one  of  the  best 
and  most  orderly  in  the  school.  It  is  the  difference 
between  saying  to  boy  or  man,  to  girl  or  woman, 
"you  are  bad"  and  saying  "you  are  good." 

The  Quaker,  Isaac  T.  Hopper,  encountered  a  pro- 
fane colored  man  named  Cain,  and  took  him  before  a 
magistrate,  who  fined  him  for  blasphemy.  Tvvent\^ 
years  after  the  Quaker  met  Cain,  who  had  gone  from 
bad  to  worse.  Moved  with  a  feeling  of  warmest  sym- 
pathy-, he  took  Cain  by  the  hand,  dnd  said :  "Dost 
thou  remember  me,  how  I  had  thee  fined  for  swear- 
ing?" "Yes  indeed  I  do;  I  remember  what  I  paid  as 
well  as  yesterday."  "Well,  did  it  do  thee  any  good?" 
"No,  never  a  bit :  it  made  me  mad  to  have  nn^  money 
taken  from  me."  The  Quaker  had  him  reckon  up  the 
interest  on  the  fine  for  twentv  vears,  and  paid  him 
principal  and  interest,  with  the  friendly  words:  "I 
meant  it  for  thy  good,  Cain,  and  I  am  soiTy  I  did 
thee  any  harm."  Cain's  countenance  changed.  The 
tears  ran  down  his  cheeks.  He  never  swore  anv 
more.  The  old  Quaker  was  twenty  years  behind 
with  his  Christianitv,  that  was  all. 

A  returned  colored  soldier  was  walking  along  the 
streets  in  Denver.  Some  boys  passing  that  way- 
taunted  him  as  "that  nigger."    "I  don't  think,"  said 


12 


THE  POWER  OF  KINDNESS. 


he,  "that  I  ought  to  be  called  a  nigger  any  more, 
when  I  have  fonght  for  country." 

'"Call  him  rascal,  and  we  drive  him 
From  all  j^ooilness  by  the  ban: 

And  the  bad  that  is  within  him 
Strives  to  do  the  worst  it  can."" 

A  tramp  who  has  been  on  the  road  a  good  manv 
3'ears  writes  an  article  for'  "The  Forum"  on 
"Tramps."  He  expresses  this  sentiment :  "If  a  voung 
man,  who  gets  into  a  bad  way,  loses  his  job,  and  goes 
forth  despairing  into  the  streets  to  beg,  though  the 
humihation  burns  him  to  the  soul,  be  taken  bv  every 
sensible  person  for  an  idle,  lazy  vagabond  and  quasi 
criminal,  he  will  speedily  bL-conie  one.  It  is  easv  at 
besttoroll  down  hill;  and  when  every  (one)  kicksyou 
it  .requires  a  lion's  heart  and  a  hero's  faith  to  keep 
from  going  to  the  dogs  at  a  tremendous  rate.  *  * 
You  may  give  a  man  a  dime  and  a  kick,  and  damn 
him  to  deeper  degradation.  But  give  him  a  word  of 
cheer,  give  him  a  chance — in  the  name  of  God,  a 
chance — and  you  begin  to  save  him." 

■"Distrust  never  yet  has  g'athered 
One  poor  soul  to  God  and  lifj  : 

But  has  often  further  forced  him 
On  to  hatred  and  to  strife." 

Moving,  as  we  are,  in  our  quiet  and  what  we 
consider  at  least  respectable  range  of  society,  do  we 
ever  give  a  thought  to  that  most  needful  class,  who 
most  need,  not  money  or  coin  alone,  but  sympathy 
and  a  heart,  our  released  convicts  from  our  peniten- 
tiaries and  state  prisons?    Some  one  has  said,  with 


THE  POWER  OF  KINDNESS. 


13 


only  too  much  truth,  that  we  bar  all  doors  against 
them  except  the  saloon  and  the  gambling  hell  and 
the  low  dive.  Stores  are  fastened  against  them. 
Homes  are  tightlv  shut.  Churches  close  their  pews." 
"I  was  ;n  prison,"  says  the  Master,  "and  ye  visited 
me  not."  What  must  He  say  when  he  is  repre- 
sented in  the  person  of  a  penitent  soul  who  has  come 
out  of  prison,  and  against  whom,  with  a  cold,  hard 
heart,  society  slams  the  door?  An  organ  of  many 
stops  and  pipes  and  diapasons,  when  the  skillful  fin- 
gers played  upon  the  key  board,  gave  no  sound. 
There  was  an  obstruction  in  the  supph*  pipe  of  the 
motor.  The  mighty  organ  was  voiceless.  Natures 
around  us,  capable  of  sweetest  music,  full  of  life's 
softest  harmonies,  are  silent  because  our  unkindness 
and  harshness  and  severity,  as  a  fatal  obstruction, 
cut  off  the  suppl\^  and  the  organ  is  forever  still. 

"As  man  thinketh,  so  he  can  be; 
•  Make  him  think  he  can  be  great. 
And  the  best  that  is  within  him 

Strives  to  reach  the  wished-for  state." 

I  believe  that  kindly  compliments  and  words  of 
praise,  when  they  are  honest,  possess  within  them  a 
saving  grace.  It  is  our  duty,  in  all  affection,  to  utter 
them.  They  are  the  incentives  many  times  to 
noblest  action,  to  sublimest  endeavor.  Our  words 
may  be  the  mystic  ozone,  that  some  manly  nature 
may  imbreathe,  and,  in  the  stalwart  strength  of  its 
ins])iration,  mount  to  noblest  heights,  and  tread  the 
loftiest  planes.  We  make  men  best  as  we  speak  most 
often  of  the  best  that  is  in  them.  When  we  make 
men  think  so,  then  we  make  them  so. 


Is  Life  Worth  Living  ? 

Yea,  better  is  hr  than  both  they,  ("thedead"  or 
"the  living")  which  hath  not  yet  been,  who 
hath  not  sr;EN  the  evil  work  that  is  done 
under  the  sun. — Eccl.  IV,  j. 

"^^HIS  is  pessimism,  earned  to  the  last  extreme.  It  is 
a  look  out  into  the  universe  that  sees  everything 
black.  All  is  midnight  in  this  world  of  ours.  The 
dead  are  better  off  than  the  living,  for  they  have  got 
through  with  the  curse  of  having  to  live.  Far  better 
is  it  never  to  have  been  born — for  then  the  calamity 
of  living  does  not  befall. 

It  follows  from  this  philosophy  that  there  is  a 
being  in  this  universe  who  has  created  an  order  of 
existences  to  make  them  as  miserable  as  he  can;  an 
order  of  existences  who  will  curse  him  forever  that 
they  were  made  at  all.  What  kind  of  a  being  is  that? 
What  shall  we  call  him?  God  or  devil?  Ormuzd  or 
Ahriman?  Goodness,  or  innate,  inherent  evil  ?  You 
and  I  don't  believe  any  such  abnormity  as  this.  The 
Christ  did  not,  when  He  said :  "God  so  loved  the 
world  that  He  gave  His  only  begotten  son,  that 
whosoever  believeth  in  Him  should  not  perish,  but 
have  everlasting  life."  That  is  optimism  ;  optimism, 
bright  and  dazzling,  from  the  lips  of  Jesus.    Love  is 


16 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING? 


the  deity  of  this  universe.  Love  is  going  to  do  all 
the  good  it  is  possible  to  do,  and  work  out  in  hu- 
manity forever  the  highest  and  the  best  things. 
Because  it  is  love. 

Now  these  two  conceptions  are  utterly  con- 
tradictory. They  are  absolutely  exclusive  the  one 
of  the  other.  If  the  one  is  true,  the  other  is  false; 
and  if  the  one  is  false,  the  other  is  true.  They 
can't  be  reconciled.  There  is  no  ground  of  comprom- 
mise  between  them.  They  are  the  two  masters  of 
human  thought.  We  can  not  serve  them  both.  It 
is  an  impossibility  in  the  nature  of  the  case.  As 
between  these  two  masters  of  all  human  philosophy, 
of  all  religions,  we  will,  as  the  Saviour  said,  "either 
hate  the  one  and  love  the  other ;  or  else  we  will  hold 
to  the  one,  and  despise  the  other."  If  we  accept  one 
of  these  conceptions  we  must,  in  the  necessity  of 
things,  cast  away  the  other.  Acceptance  of  the  one 
is,  in  its  nature,  exclusion  of  the  other.  The  pessim- 
ist and  the  optimist  are  the  antipodes.  They  never 
come  together.  They  are  poles,  pointing  opposite. 
And  yet  both  these  ideas  I  have  quoted  are  in  the 
Bible,  in  the  authori2ed  canon  of  inspired  scripture. 
My  text  is  in  Eccl.  iv  :  3.  The  words  of  Jesus  are  in 
Johniii:16.  There  has  been  little  question  of  the 
inspiration  of  either  of  these  books.  Ecclesiastes 
was  in  the  Bible  the  Master  read  when  He  was  in 
the  svnagogue.  The  gospel  of  John  was  early  incor- 
porated in  the  New  Testament  canon,  and  accepted 
as  the  production  of  John  the  beloved  disciple. 
What  shall  we  do  then  with  such  opposite  and  con- 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING? 


17 


tradictory  statements?  With  these  ideas  that  are 
absolutely  exclusive  the  one  of  the  other?  They  can 
not  be  brought  to  any  common  ground.  Theie  is 
no  neiitral  territory.  If  we  say  that  it  is  better  in 
this  world,  as  it  is  now  constructed  and  governed, 
never  to  have  been  born,  surely  we  can't  talk  about 
love  and  the  glorious  things  that  love  will  do.  Or  if 
we  believe  with  the  Master  in  the  love,  we  can't  use 
any  such  language  of  abject  pessimism  as  this  text, 
that  it  is  better  to  be  in  our  graves  than  on  the 
earth,  and  better  than  either  never  to  have  had  exist- 
ence, never  to  have  been  compelled  to  live! 

I  \\  ould  like  to  consider  this  question,  if  you  will 
permit  me  to  day.  For  I  think  that  a  Christian 
optimist  can  easily  sift  this  pessimism  of  the 
preacher  in  Jerusalem.  And  I  am  inclined  to  think 
that  the  explanation  of  the  seeming  contradiction  is 
found  in  the  standpoint  from  which  Solomon  and 
the  Master  speak  ;  in  the  posture  in  life  in  which  they 
are  doing  their  thinking  while  they  speak.  The 
Master  was  in  the  clear  sunshine.  His  vision  was 
undimmed.  His  e3'e  was  clear.  His  heart  was  all 
right.  His  spirit  was  in  alliance  with  the  divine. 
His  life  was  faultless  and  pure.  From  that  stand- 
point, talking  with  Nicodemus  b}-  night.  He  looked 
out  upon  this  universe,  and  up  into  the  face  of  God. 
He  saw  love  everywhere — love  doing  its  utmost — 
love  giving  itself.  His  clear  e^-e  could  easily  discern 
it.  His  true  heart  could  beat  in  harmony  with  it. 
His  pure  spirit  could  breathe  its  sweet  aroma.  His 
life,  so  unstained  and  so  guileless,  could  bathe  in  it 


18 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING  ? 


as  in  an  ocean  of  sweet  delights.  And  so  it  flowed 
as  from  a  fountain,  out  of  the  depths  of  His  nature, 
to  say,  "God  so  loved  the  world  that  he  gave  his 
only  begotten  son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  Him 
should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life."  That 
was  the  normal  Ijreath  of  The  Christ  when  He 
breathed  aloud.  That  was  the  language  of  His 
spirit,  when  His  spirit  was  audible.  That  was  the 
nuisic  of  His  soul,  when,  with  gentlest  touch,  He 
played  u])on  its  keys.  Could  you  have  leaned,  with 
John,  upon  His  bosom,  and  listened  to  the  beating  of 
His  heart,  that  was  the  silent  voice  of  its  gentle 
throbbings  within. 

But  King  Solomon!  We  pass  into  a  different 
world  at  the  pronunciation  of  the  name.  We  enter 
a  wholly  different  realm  of  spirit.  Now  everything 
is  twisted  and  awrv.  The  universe  is  all  wrong. 
And  God  does  not  care.  Something  is  the  matter. 
Something  is  the  matter  with  God  or  with  Solo- 
mon. As  the  first  supposition  is  impossible,  as. 
according  to  our  theology,  nothing  can  be  wrong 
with  God,  we  are  driven  to  the  latter  conclusion, 
that  something  was  terribly  and  fatally  wrong 
with  Solomon.  And  certainly  there  was.  He 
gives  himself  wholh'  away  in  this  sermoa  of  his 
from  which  I  have  taken  my  text,  and  continues  the 
process  of  self  exposure  in  the  entire  tone  of  his 
preaching,  and  the  whole  tenor  of  the  method  of  his 
thought. 

This  famous  king  became  a  preacher  at  an  ad- 
vanced stage  in  life.     Some  six  years  beyond  what 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING? 


19 


is  called  in  our  dav  the  dead  line.  He  was  about 
fifty-six  years  of  age.  He  did  not  graduate  at  a  the- 
ological seminai'y.  He  was  no  worse  for  that.  He 
had  had  no  theological  training.  F'erhaps  he  was 
all  the  better  for  that.  But  he  was  a  man  of  vast 
culture,  and  widely  extended  erudition.  He  had 
explored  all  departments  of  knowledge  and  was  a 
voluminous  author,  a  fr.ignient  of  whose  literary 
works  only  remains  in  the  three  books  of  Proverbs, 
Ecclesiastes  and  the  Song  of  Solomon.  If  you  will 
turn  some  time  to  1  Kings,  iv  :  32,  83,  vou  will  get  a 
]:)artial  idea  of  the  extended  character  of  his  literary 
labor,  among  the  cares  and  responsibilities  of  ro^^al 
state.  He  spake  three  thousand  proverbs.  We  have 
not  more  than  one-fourth  of  them  in  the  book  we 
entitle  by  that  name.  He  composed  one  thousand 
and  five  songs.  We  have  but  one.  He  wrote  more 
poetry  than  Homer  and.  Virgil  and  Milton  and  Ten- 
nyson combined.  He  prepared  a  text  book  on  bot- 
any. As  the  author  of  Kings  exj^resses  it :  "  He  spake 
of  trees,  from  the  cedar  tree  that  is  in  Lebanon  even 
unto  the  hyssop  that  syjringeth   out  of  the  wall." 

TRo  nPone^g  Xoet. 

SUCCESS  CROWNS  ALL   who  at- 
tend    Haley's    Business    Institute  and 
School  of  Shorthand  and  Typewriting, 
Fort  Edward,  N.  Y. 
•  Every  graduate  has  employment. 

/.  W.  HA  LBV,  Principal. 

ESTABLISHED  9  YEARS. 


20 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING? 


He  was  an  authority  also  as  a  zoologist:  "He 
spake  of  beasts  and  of  fowl  and  creeping  things  and 
of  fishes."  He  was  admirably  qualified  intellect- 
ually to  shine  as  a  preacher,  and  to  make  a  sensa- 
tion in  Jerusalem.  He  knew  enough  to  be  the  best 
preacher  the  world  ever  saw.  There  was  nothing- 
the  matter  with  his  head.  That  was  as  clear  as  a 
bell. 

But  the  heart  down  in  that  royal  bosom,  that 
was  the  seat  of  the  difficulty,  that  was  the  primal 
source  of  all  the  trouble.  He  kept  it  pure  for  about 
forty  years.  During  that  time  he  devoted  his  grow- 
ing wealth  to  the  honor  of  Jehovah.  He  exercised 
his  royalty  iti  obedience  to  the  divine  command.  He 
was  greater  and  wiser  and  better  than  all  the  king.-; 
of  the  earth.  His  fame  extended  far  and  wide. 
Unfortunately,  it  reached  to  distant  Sheba.  In  sore 
calamity  to  King  Solomon,  the  queen  of  the  south 
came  in  royal  state  to  hear  his  wisdom  and  to 
admire  his  magnificence.  "And  when  the  queen  of 
Sheba  had  seen  all  Solomon's  wisdom,  and  the  house 
that  he  had  built,  and  the  meat  of  his  table,  and  the 
sitting  of  his  servants,  and  the  attendance  of  his 
ministers,  and  their  apparel,  and  his  cupbearers,  and 
his  ascent  bv  which  he  went  up  unto  the  house  of  the 
Lord,  there  was  no  more  spirit  in  her.  And  she  said 
to  the  king :  'It  was  a  true  report  that  I  heard  in 
mine  own  land  of  thv  acts  and  of  thy  wisdom. 
Howbeit,  I  believed  not  the  words  until  I  cffme, 
and  mine  eyes  had  seen  it,  and,  behold,  the  half 
was  not  told    me ;    thy    wisdom    and  prosperity 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING? 


21 


exceedetli  the  fame  which  I  heard.'"  This  was  the 
turning  point  in  King  Solomon's  career.  His  flirta- 
tion with  tlie  queen  of"  Sheba  seemed  to  upset  him. 
Not  that  the  queen  of  Sheba  was  at  all  to  blame.  It 
was  his  own  susce])tibilitv  and  selfishness.  And 
as  he  walked  with  her  about  his  palace  and  the  royal 
grounds,  as  he  boastingly  showed  her  his  greatness, 
and  as  she  politely  and  coquettishly  flattered  him, 
the  whole  thing  turned  his  head,  his  vanity  ran 
away  with  him,  and  from  that  day  his  sun  began  to 
go  into  an  eclipse.  He  forgot  the  God  of  his  fathers. 
He  plunged  u]:)on  a  career  of  excess  and  dissipation, 
and  whirled  hencei'orth  in  the  vortex  of  a  sixteen 
A'cars'  debauch.  At  the  expiration  of  that  time,  when 
he  was  about  fifty-six  years  of  age,  he  became  a 
preacher,  strangely  qualified  to  preach  by  his  mad 
career  of  indulgence  and  excess.  He  was  inspired  to 
preach  from  that  standpoint.  As  a  worn  out  world- 
ling, exhausted  and  blase.  In  that  capacity  he  was 
inspired  to  tell  to  humanity,  in  all  the  ages,  so  that 
none  might  need  to  learn  the  lesson  again,  just  what 
life  lived  in  that  way- was  worth,  and  his  estimate 
we  have  in  this  text  and  its  prelude,  it  is  better  to 
be  dead  than  to  live,  and  it  is  better  than  either 
never  to  have  been  born.  Have  we  not  the  explana- 
tion of  his  pessimism  ?  Do  we  not  see,  at  once, 
just  what  was  the  matter?  His  sermon,  if  we  take 
it  as  a  unit,  exposes  the  preacher,  and  we  see  him  in 
his  true  character — a  godless,  dissipated,  selfish  man, 
finding,  in  his  godlessness  and  his  dissipation  and 
his  selfishness,  just  what  life  was  worth,  and  then 


22 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING 


pouring  out  his  disgust  and  his  dissatisfaction,  as 
the  preacher  in  Jerusalem. 

And  he  can  fairly  claim,  as  he  does  in  this  ser- 
mon, to  be  (jualified  to  judge, and  to  pronounce  a 
decisive  decision.  His  verdict  is  relial)le.  He  had 
sat  for  sixteen  years  at  the  feet  of  the  most  com- 
petent teacher,  though  seldom  the  pleasantest — 
experience,  and  he  was  the  victim  of  her  instruction. 
He  was  not  so  happy  as  he  was  sixteen  years 
before,  but  he  knew  more.  The  range  of  excesses 
upon  which  he  had  entered  was  a  wide  one;  I 
might  almost  say,  illimitable.  He  tried  first  the 
paths  of  philosophical  and  scientific  investigation, 
pursued  without  achildHke  faith  and  trust  in  Israel's 
God.  He  posed  as  a  sceptic,  and  prided  himself  as 
an  unbeliever — the  vainest  kind  of  vanity.  As  he 
puts  it :  "I  gave  mv  heart  to  seek  find  search  out 
wisdom  concerning  all  things  that  are  done  under 
heaven."  This  does  not  seem  on  the  surface  a  very 
vicious  course.  But  the  vileness  of  it  was  in  the 
spirit  in  which  it  was  done.  It  was  undertaken  in 
a  spirit  of  criticism  and  faultfiiiding  with  the  ways 
of  the  Almighty'.  A  kind  of  sitting  in  judgment  upon 
God.  Solomon,  the  preacher's,  first  step  downward, 
be  it  remembered,  when  he  lost  his  head,  was  along 
the  path  of  philosophical  speculation,  calling  in  ques- 
tion, and  criticising,  the  wa^-s  of  God.  Adjudicating 
deitv  in  this  language  of  the  self  constituted  and 
utterly  incompetent  court:  "That  which  is  crooked 
cannot  be  made  straight  and  that  which  is  wanting 
cannot  be  numbered."    No  wonder  that  in  this  spirit 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING  ? 


23 


of  scepticism,  in  this  obduracy  and  hardness  of  heart, 
the  investigator  should  lose  his  temper,  and,  when 
he  was  completel}'  broken  up,  should  render  this  ver- 
dict: "In  much  wisdom  is  much  grief :  and  he  that 
incieaseth  knowledge  increaseth  sorrow." 

And  so,  as  his  next  step,  he  proposes  to  abnegate 
wisdom,  and  plav  the  fool.  He  goes  to  all  excesses. 
He  throws  his  money  in  all  directions.  He  builds  him 
houses,  and  ])lants  him  vinevards,  and  makes  him 
pools  of  water,  jind  has  great  possessions,  "above  all 
that  were  in  Jerusalem  before  him."  When  he  has 
scattered  money  in  all  directions  like  water,  he  looks 
it  all  over,  and  pronounces  it  "vanitv  and  vexation 
of  spirit."  The  whole  thing,  after  all,  doesn't  pay. 
"There  was  no  profit  under  the  sun."  At  this  point 
he  blossoms  into  a  pessimist,  fully  ripe.  "Therefore 
I  hntt'd  life."  "Yea,  I  hated  all  my  labor  which  I 
had  taken  under  the  sun."  He  is  out  of  sorts  with 
everything,  and  so  everything  is  wrong,  and  life  is  a 
failure,  and  God  has  made  a  tremendous  mistake. 
He  ought  never  to  have  created  man,  never  to  have 
called  mortals  into  being. 

But  the  ])reacher  has  not  got  to  the  bottom 
yet.  In  his  utter  disgust  and  dissatisfaction  he 
goes  to  drinking  in  a  day  when  there  are  no  re- 
formatory institutions  and  no  white  ribbons.  He 
becomes  a  victim  of  intemperance  and  of  still 
grosser  vices  that  shall  be  nameless,  and  flaunts 
himself  before  the  people  in  the  streets  of  .Jeru- 
salem, he  who  has  been  known  for  a  generation  as 
the  wisest  of  men,  a  drunkard  and  a  roue.    Ah,  if  the 


24 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING 


queen  of  Sheika  could  see  him  now  I  What  a  different 
report  she  would  take  back  to  her  own  country  I 
How  would  the  fame  dwindle,  and  the  glamour  for- 
ever fade ! 

When  the  royal  faculties  had  become  blunted  by 
the  royal  vices,  and  thought  incapacitated  by  a  bad 
and  wicked  heart,  when  that  matchless  brain  had 
become  muddled,  then  the  preacher  undertook  to 
solve  the  deep  mysteries  of  life.  He  lay  hold  of  some 
of  its  hard  problems.  The  injustice  in  high  places. 
The  oppressions  and  cruelties  of  the  strong  against 
the  weak,  of  the  rich  against  the  poor.  The  efficiency 
of  one  sleepless  night  to  sap  all  real  enjovment  of 
life.  The  strange  tricks  and  turns  in  life,  the  queer 
juxtaposition  on  which  results  are  hinged,  where 
"the  race  is  not  to  the  swift  nor  the  battle  to  the 
strong."  And  then  the  uncertainty  of  what  comes 
after.  After  death,  what?  From  such  a  standpoint, 
viewing  life  as  Solomon,  in  the  maelstrom  of  his 
vices,  views  it,  do  you  wonder  at  his  conclusion  that 
death  is  better  than  life,  that  it  is  better  than  either 
never  to  have  been  born  ?  Seldom  has  a  more  logical 
conclusion  been  drawn  by  a  human  mind  than  this 
conclusion  of  the  preacher's,  from  the  standpoint 
from  which  he  was  in,spired  to  speak.  As  a  philo- 
sophical sceptic,  as  an  extravagant  waster,  as  a  dis- 
sipated indulger,  plunged  in  lowest  vice,  pessimism 
was  his  normal  plane,  and  life  was  a  calamity  and 
never  to  have  been  born  the  peerless  boon  I 

The  whole  thing  resolves  itself  in  this,  and  this  is, 
the  peroration  of  the  sermon  of  "the  preacher  in  Jer- 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING? 


25 


usalem" — life  is  what  we  make  it  vinder  God.  It  is 
clay  in  our  hands,  pliable  and  plastic  to  any  design  we 
please.  "In  much  wisdom  is  much  grief,"  or  ceaseless 
satisfaction,  just  as  is  the  spirit  in  which  we  seek  it. 
Pleasures  minister  to  our  better  natures,  or  they  pull 
us  down  as  dragnets,  just  as  is  the  spirit  in  which  we 
enjoy  them.  Life  is  vanity  or  life  is  a  benediction,  as 
is  the  spirit  in  which  we  live  it.  From  his  stand- 
])oint  Solomon  was  right.  If  you  are  willing  to  live 
as  he  lived  you  will  reach  his  conclusion.  You  will 
agree  with  him  without  hesitation  that  it  were  bet- 
ter never  to  have  been  born.  The  following  verses, 
contained  in  an  issue  of  a  popular  periodical,  will 
then  express  your  final  thought : 

•'Whenever  life'.s  .song-  i.s  out  of  rhyme, 

And  fate  and  my  plans  wont  thrive; 
Then  I  love  to  muse  on  that  g-Iorious  time, 

The  time  when  I  wasn't  alive. 

"Those  dear  old  days!  how  they  haunt  me  yet 

With  dreams  of  content  and  bliss; 
Where  there  was  not  a  hurt  I  could  possibly  get, 

Nor  a  joj'  I  could  lose  or  miss. 

"They  may  prate  of  the  wondrous  things  that  are, 

Which  existence  alone  can  give; 
But  I  know  that  my  happiest  day.s  by  far 

Were  the  days  when  I  did  not  live. 

"I  don't  care  a  jot  how  fortune  flows 

To  the  men  on  each  side  of  me; 
For  the  fellows  I  envy  most  are  those, 

Who  have  not  begun  to  be.  " 

But  if  our  whole  nature  rebels,  if  there  is  revul- 
sion from  all  this  philosophy  deep  down  in  our 
souls,  if  some  silent  influence  points  us  to  nobler  and 


26 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LmNG  ? 


higher  and  better  things,  we  shall  find  a  reality  in  life 
and  a  fruition,  now  and  in  the  ages  ahead,  that  the 
loving  Being  who  superintends  this  universe  wisely 
and  lovingly  purposed  v^'hen  he  said  :  "Let  us  make 
man."    Simply,  we  want  life  with  God  in  it. 

A  pastor,  visiting  one  of  his  parishioners  who 
was  in  deep  despondency,  as  she  held  her  infant  child 
in  her  arms,  said,  "Drop  that  little  one  to  the  floor." 
With  an  air  of  wonder  at  such  a  request,  she  refused. 
"Well,"  said  he,  "for  what  price  would  you  doit?" 
"Not  for  as  many  diamonds  as  there  are  stars."  "You 
would  not?"  "No,  I  would  not."  "Do  you  really 
think  that  3'ou  love  that  child  more  than  God  loves 
you?"  This  is  the  final  explanation  of  life.  Above  all 
its  pitfalls  and  its  snares,  God  is  holding  us  in  the  hol- 
low of  his  hand.  Because  He  is  lo%'e,  He  can  not  let 
us  fall,  unless,  with  the  preacher  in  Jerusalem,  we 
wrench  ourselves  by  violent  distortion  out  of  His 
hands.  Love  makes  life  what  it  is.  Love,  whose 
dwelling  place  is  the  bosom  of  God. 

"There  is  no  fire  place  so  grand. 

So  richly  tiled,  so  wide  and  splendid, 

That  it  can  spare  tlie  i^'-lowing-  brand 

In  which  its  warmth  and  cheer  are  blended. 

"There  is  no  life  so  proud  and  stern. 
So  far  removed  from  human  weakness, 

But  holds  -some  nook  where  love  must  burn 
To  save  it  from  a  chilling-  bleakness." 

Let  God  go,  and  all  is  gone.  Put  out  love  and  all 
is  midnight.  Better,  far  better  then,  as  the  preacher 
said,  "never  to  have  been  born." 


I    @  The  Bright  Side.  @  | 

As     HAVING     NOTHING,     AND    YF.T     POSSESSING  ALL 
THINGS. — //  Cor.    VI:  10. 

'^'HE  great  apostle  is  opening  a  page  of  his  own 
experience.  He  is  telling  to  the  world  the 
secrets  of  his  inmost  heart.  Having  outlined  the 
varied  and  multiform  character  ofthe  events  through 
which  he  has  been  called,  as  an  apostle,  to  pass,  he 
completes  the  page,  and  shuts  to  the  door  of  his 
heart,  with  the  sublime  antitheses,  of  which  the  text 
is  at  once  the  conclusion  and  the  consummation. 
Seemingh'  they  are  contradictions  and  mutually 
exclusive,  each  ofthe  other.  He  has  been  treated  by 
men  as  a  deceiver ;  he  has  brought  to  them  unerring- 
truth.  He  has  kept  himself  in  obscurity  and  seclu- 
sion; yet  the  world  has  hung  upon  his  words.  He 
has  been  willing  to  die;  in  that  willingness  he  has 
found  the  only  true  life.  He  has  been  smitten  with 
sore  sorrow  ;  he  has  not  been  wholly  slain.  He  has 
lived  in  penury  ;  he  has  made  the  multitude  rich.  He 
has  had  nothing;  he  has  held  on  to  all  things.  These 
are  the  antitheses  of  his  apostolic  life.  These  attest 
the  regularity  of  his  ordination,  where  bishops  and 
presbytery  took  no  part. 


28 


THE  BRIGHT  SIDE. 


Let  ns  look,  for  a  little  while,  at  the  last  of  these 
apparent  contradictions— "having  nothing,  yet  pos- 
sessing all  things."  In  the  language  Paul  employed, 
the  word  "possess"  was  the  word  "have"  with  an 
additional  prefix,  that  denoted  still  stronger  adhe- 
sion. "Having  nothing,  \'et  having  firm  hold  of  all 
things."  Nothing  belonging  to  him;  everything 
absolutely  and  forever  his.  It  sounds  like  a  positive 
and  a  clear  cut  contradiction.  And  ^et,  if  we  look 
into  his  wonderful  life  with  a  little  care,  we  can  see 
how  in  several  ways  the  statement  was  unqualifiedly' 
true,  and  the  antithesis  was  in  perfect  accord. 

This  was  evidenced,  first  of  all,  in  his  disposition 
to  enjoy-  In  the  temperament  with  which  he  had 
been  endowed  by  nature,  and  that  had  been  multi- 
pHed,  in  its  resources,  by  grace.  He  was  a  poor  man, 
compelled  to  earn  his  livelihood  by  the  labor  of  his 
hands.  He  would  not  take  any-thing  for  preaching, 
and  so  he  had  to  earn  his  daily  bread  by  the  sweat 
of  his  brow.  He  labored  under  certain  phy-sical 
weaknesses  that  made  him  as  he  says,  often  the 
object  of  derision  and  contempt.  Tradition  sa\-s  he 
was  a  hunch-back.  Whatever  the  phy-sical  deform- 
itv  was,  he  felt  it  soreh%  and  his  enemies  used  it  as  a 
weapon  of  attack  and  abuse.  He  had  no  social 
enjoyments,  no  domestic  felicities.  He  was  a  bach- 
elor, and  devoid,  as  it  seemed,  of  the  capacity  of 
enjoyment  in  the  qualities  of  the  other  sex.  He 
never  understood  women,  and  his  personal  opinion 
of  them,  based  on  ignorance,  was  very  low.  His 
opinion,    however,  seemed  to   change    when  he 


THE  BRIGHT  SIDE. 


29 


learned  what  matchless  workers  they  were  in  the 
rising  church  ;  and  he  speaks  about  them  with  a  good 
deal  of  enthusiasm  a  little  later  on.  He  had  a  repu- 
tation among  the  people  for  fanaticism,  and  was 
denounced  as  a  disturber  and  a  revolutionist  where 
he  was  not  outlawed  as  a  fool.  He  had  no  place  to 
live,  and  continued  all  his  life  on  the  road.  Abso- 
lutely, as  he  says,  he  had  "nothing."  And  yet  he 
"held  on"  to  all  things.  The  disposition  which  God 
had  given,  and  with  which  He  had  crowned,  as  with 
a  halo,  and  ensphered  his  whole  life,  plucked  pleas- 
ure out  of  everything,  found  satisfaction  everywhere, 
and  .so  entered  into  full  and  supreme  possession, 
"possessing  all  things."  That  disposition  of  his  was 
a  bee  that  sucked  honey  from  every  flower,  heljjing 
the  flower  to  cfllorcscc,  and  securing  sweetness  for 
itself  From  what  seemed  the  nightshade  of  re- 
])roach  and  ])ovcrty  find  humiliation  and  shame,  that 
frame  of  spirit  could  extract  the  medicine  of  healing 
that  was  a  matchless  balm,  an  unfailing  belledonna. 

And  then  the  apostle  had  a  genius,  we  might  say, 
a  kind  of  exhaustlcss  tact,  that  transformed  the 
nothings  into  wealth,  the  zeros  into  benedictions. 
Out  of  poverty,  he  developed  industry.  Out  of 
thorns  in  the  flesh,  sustaining  grace.  Out  of  soli- 
tude and  loneliness,  the  deep  consciousness  of  the 
presence  of  the  divine.  Out  of  no  reputation,  fade- 
less laurels  and  a  peerless  crown.  Out  of  banish- 
ment, a  home.  Out  of  exile,  a  refuge  in  the  heart  of 
God.  And  so  the  man,  of  all  others,  who  seemed  to 
let  things  go,  was  the  man  that  held  them,  in  most 


30 


THE  BRIGHT  SIDE. 


successful  appropriation.  "Having  nothing, yet  pos- 
sessing all  things." 

He  had  also  down  in  his  heart  that  love  for  human- 
ity, for  the  world,  that  made  all  men's  possessions 
his  own.  If  others  had  them,  he  was  satisfied.  If 
others  were  prospered,  so  was  he.  If  others  were 
happy,  he  was  happier  still.  Pleasure,  wealth,  desir- 
able surroundings,  every  resource  of  delight  and  joy 
— because  the  men  and  women  around  him  had  them, 
he  had  them  too ;  and  he  found  in  them  all  a  higher 
and  a  sweeter  delight  and  joy  than  they.  While,  as 
a  Christian  man,  full  of  the  spirit  of  the  Christ, 
modelled,  in  his  inmost  attitude  of  soul,  after  Him, 
he  had  the  spirit  of  all  true  possession,  he  was  the 
inheritor  of  all  things,  "all  thiligs"  were  his,  for  he 
was  Christ's,  and  Christ  was  God's.  He  actualized 
his  own  philosophy.  He  was  the  embodiment  of  his 
own  theor)\  He  seized  the  things  of  spirit,  and  all 
things  were  his. 

As  we  have  been  looking  a  little  into  the  life  and 
character  of  the  great  apostle,  we  have  found  him,— 
have  we  not? — the  typal  man.  He  may  well  say,  as 
he  does,  in  one  of  his  epistles,  "walk  so  as  ye  have 
us  for  an  ensample."  As  we  apply  the  exalted  and 
exacting  standard  he  thus  presents  to  us,  we  find,  at 
once,  that  there  are  two  opposite  and  diverse  classes 
of  men.  We  meet  them  both  in  the  familiar  inter- 
course of  society-.  Both  are  equally  pronounced  and 
positive.  W'e  may  term  them  Paul's  opposites  and 
Paul's  allies  in  the  realm  of  spirit,  or,  as  distin- 
guished by  the  text,  they  are  those  that  have  every- 


THE  BRIGHT  SIDE. 


31 


thing  and  possess  nothing,  and  those  that  "having 
nothing,  possess  all  things." 

These  opposite  experiences  are  conditioned,  first  of 
all,  upon  the  lack  or  the  possession  of  the  spirit  to 
enjoy,  the  disposition  with  which  Paul  was  en- 
dowed so  richly,  that  plucks  pleasure  from  every 
petal,  and  sweetness  from  every  flower  that  grows 
along  the  pathway-  of  our  lives.  There  are  natures 
that  are  so  constituted,  whether  by  heredity  or  by 
innate  perversity,  that  they  can  not,  by  any  possi- 
bility, be  happy.  They  are  devoid  of  all  capacity  to 
enjoy.  They  may  have  wealth,  reputation,  friends, 
culture,  a  kind  of  religious  faith,  and  they  will  be 
miserable  with  them  all.  This  is  because,  whatever 
they  have,  they  are  sure  to  distort  it  by  anticipa- 
tion of  evil  or  fear  of  loss.  The  springs  of  water  to 
which  they  come  they  defile  and  spoil  by  stirring  up 
what  mud  at  the  bottom  the}'  can.  To  a  sick  man 
all  sweets  are  bitter.  Those  of  whom  we  are  speak- 
ing are  constitutionalK'  sick;  the  taste  is  morbid, 
and  there  can  1)c  n(yLhing  sweet.  Their  way  of  look- 
ing at  things  is  a  kind  of  haze  in  the  atmosphere  of 
of  their  .-ibid  ing  impressions,  that  distorts  molehills 
inlo  mountains  and  pebbles  into  precipices.  The 
desire,  deep  and  strong,  for  some  blessing  they  have 
not,  takes  away  the  joy  that  would  otherwise  be 
theirs  in  the  blessings  they  have.  They  want  two 
days  jnanna  instead  of  one,  and  so  a  process  of  cor- 
ruption is  going  on  in  the  whole,  and  all  the  manna 
is  s])oiled.  A  canary  and  a  gold  fish  were  in  the 
same  room,  the  one  in  his  cage  the  other  in  theaqua- 


32 


THE  BRIGHT  SIDE. 


rium.  One  hot  day,  the  owner  heard  the  gold  fish 
sa}':  "How  I  wish  I  could  sing  as  sweeth'  as  m}' 
friend  up  there."  The  canary  was  looking  with  envi- 
ous e3'e  upon  the  gold  fish  and  said:  "How  cool  it 
looks,  I  wish  rti}' lot  were  there."  The  owner  complied 
with  their  wishes,  and  put  the  fish  up  in  the  air  and 
the  bird  in  the  pool.  The  fish  couldn't  breathe  and 
the  bird  only  floundered. 

Sometimes  conscience,  in  this  class  of  which  I 
speak,  doth  make  cowards  of  them  all,  and  they  can 
not  be  at  peace.  The  voice  that  is  within  them  pro- 
hibits ever}' joy,  and  expels  every  guest  who  wears  a 
smiling  face,  or  has  a  pleasant  word.  And  so,  in  one 
way  or  another,  they  stand  in  that  attitude  of 
spirit,  they  dwell  habitually  in  that  frame  of  mind, 
where,  though  the\'  may  have  everything,  thev  pos- 
sess nothing— millionaires  in  outward  title  they  are 
paupers  in  their  souls. 

And  then  there  are  the  opposite  natures,  who  have 
the  spirit  to  enjoy,  the  disposition  to  be  pleased,  the 
"merr\-  heart"  of  which  Solomon  speaks,  that  "doeth 
good  like  a  medicine" — that  "is  a  continual  feast." 
"Having  nothing  "  they  "possess  all  things."  Con- 
tentment is  alwaj's  an  exhaustless  mine,  the  vein  of 
which  grows  richer  the  deeper  we  delve,  and  the 
farther  we  explore.  A  poor  widow  not  having  bed 
clothes  sufficient  to  shelter  her  boy  from  the  snow 
that  blew  through  the  cracks  of  her  miserable  hovel, 
used  to  cover  him  with  boards.  One  night  he  said 
smilingly  and  contentedly  :  "Ma,  what  do  poor  folks 
do  these  cold  nights,  that  haven't  any  boards  to 


THE  BRIGHT  SIDE. 


33 


cover  up  their  children  with?"  One  whose  disposi- 
tion had  been  wholly  chan-red  from  crabbedness  and 
crossness  to  marvellous  sweetness  and  amiability 
gave  the  explanation  in  these  words:  "To  tell  you 
the  truth,  I  have  been  all  my  life  struggling  for  a 
contented  mind,  and  finally  concluded  to  sit  down 
contented  without  it." 

"  Some  murmur,  when  their  sky  is  clear 

Ami  wholly  brij^ht  to  view. 
If  one  sm.ill  speck  of  dark  appear 

111  their  -reat  heaven  of  lilue; 
And  some  with  thankful  love  are  filled 

If  but  one  strealc  of  li^'"ht — 
One  ray  of  God's  <;<iod  mercy — 

Gild  the  darkness  of  their  night. 

In  palaces  are  hearts  that  ask. 

In  discontent  and  pride. 
Why  life  is  such  a  tireary  task, 

Ami  all  .i^ood  thinf^s  denied? 
And  liearts  in  pocirest  huts  admire 

How  love  has,  in  their  aid — 
Love  tliat  not  ever  seems  to  tire — 

Such  rich  provision  made." 

One  stands  before  a  piece  of  ingenious  needlework 
skillfully  and  tastefully  wrought,  and  is  fascinated 
with  its  beauties;  anotherseesonly  a  defective  stitch. 
One  is  thrilled  by  a  beautiful  jKiinting;  another  turns 
the  rough  side  of  the  canvas  and  thinks  how  coarse 
it  is.  One  partakes  of  the  basket  of  luscious  fruits, 
another  hunts  out  the  unripe  grapes  and  puckers  up 
the  mouth.  One  enters  a  palace  of  delights,  the 
other  finds  the  cobwebs,  and  is  disgusted  with  the 
dust. 


34 


THE  BRIGHT  SIDE. 


It  is  just  as  the  apostle  so  wisely  suggested,  both 
ill  what  he  said  and  in  what  he  did  not  say.  There 
are  men  and  women  who  have  everything  and  pos- 
sess nothing,  and  there  are  those  who  have  nothing, 
and  possess  all  things. 

And  there  is  a  deep  philosophy  underlying  all  this. 
We  have  hinted  at  it,  in  what  we  have  said  of  Paul. 
He  plucked  the  principle  as  a  ripe  fruit  from  the  tree 
of  his  own  experience.  It  was  a  nugget  he  discov- 
ered, as  he  was  delving  deep  down  in  his  own  soul. 
The  Master  comprehended  it  all  in  a  very  few  words 
when  he  contrasted  those  that  have  and  those  that 
have  not.  "Unto  him  that  hath  shall  be  given,  and 
he  shall  have  abundance;  but  from  him  that  hath 
not  shall  be  taken  away  that  which  he  hath."  In 
that  parable  of  the  talents  the  man  who  is  con- 
demned and  impoverished  had  one  talent.  And  yet 
he  didn't  have  it.  He  didn't  have  it,  because  he 
didn't  know  what  to  do  with  it,  and  didn't  care 
that  he  didn't  know.  So  he  was  a  man  that  "had 
not."  The  rest  had,  because  the\'  knew  enough  to 
make  use  respectively  of  the  five  and  the  two  talents, 
and  had  enc«igh  energy  to  appK'  the  knowledge. 
That  was  having.  That  was  what  Paul  calls  pos- 
sessing— laying  hold  of— hanging  on.  Multitudes 
follow  in  the  steps  of  the  one  talent  economist,  and 
fold  in  the  napkin  of  selfishness  and  bury  in  the  earth 
of  neglect.  They  have  wealth  and  hide  it  in  their 
vaults.  They  have  culture,  and  are  cultured  leeches, 
drawing  in  the  life  blood  ofother  men's  best  thoughts, 
iind  never  giving  out  an  idea.    Omnivorous  readers, 


THE  BRIGHT  SIDE. 


35 


and  with  not  a  word  to  say.  They  have  reHgion,  as 
they  call  it,  and  keep  it  a  secret  all  their  lives.  Secret- 
iveness  always  crushes.  And  there  are  others.  If 
they  have  but  a  crust  of  bread,  they  divide  it  with 
the  first  hungry  man  they  meet.  "Unlearned  and 
ignorant  men,"  like  the  apostles,  they  spread  around 
the  little  knowledge  they  have  so  sedulously  and  so 
persistently  and  so  prayerfully  that  they  bless  the 
world,  and  "turn  it  upside  down."  They  have  dis- 
covered a  religion  that  consists  in  giving  itself— a 
salvation  that  is  found  in  losing. 

At  the  basis  of  this  distinction  there  is  the  lack  or 
the  presence  of  a  quality  of  spirit  that  explains  the 
whole  thing.  On  the  one  hand  there  is  indifference, 
on  the  other  there  is  love,  to  our  fellow  men.  On  the 
one  hand  a  cold,  hard  nature,  impervious  and  im- 
penetrable ;  on  the  other  a  heart  pulsating  and 
warm.  The  ha]ipiness  of  others  produces  only  envv 
in  these  adamantine  natures.  It  is  of  the  very  es- 
sence of  things  that  they  should  occasion  just  as  lit- 
tle of  it  as  possible.  Men  and  women  with  hearts 
arc  happy  because  somebody  else  is.  Love  has  a 
sweeter  thrill  in  the  joy  of  somebody  else  than  it  has 
in  its  own.  This  may  seem  romantic.  It  may  sound 
sentimental.  It  is  the  most  practical  thing  in  the 
world.  The  lever  that  is  going  to  move  everything 
upward  in  this  world  is  love.  The  centripetal  force 
that  is  going  to  draw  all  souls  in  unison  at  last  is 
love.  And  love  "sccketh  not  her  own."  vShe  finds 
herself  in  the  joy  of  other  li  ves  and  in  the  fruition  of  a 
world  outside.    In  this  way  love  lays  hold  of  the 


36 


THE  BRIGHT  SIDE. 


deep  realities  of  spirit;  love  enters  into  full  possession 
of  the  things  not  seen.  And  so,  do  3'ou  not  see  that 
"having  nothing,"  love  "possesseth  all  things?" 

All  things  here,  life's  pleasures  and  emoluments, 
wealth,  culture,  fame,  reward — all  are  lent  to  the 
man  who  has  not  love.  He  is  a  borrower  only.  His 
assets  are  all  hypothecated.  All  he  has  is  mort- 
gaged at  infinite  per  cent.  Having  all  things,  he 
possesses  nothing.  If  he  looks  ahead,  bankruptcy 
stares  him  in  the  face.  Judgment  is  a  sherifiTs  sale. 
The  voice  of  the  eternities  is  always  this:  "Thou 
fool,  this  night  thy  soul  shall  be  required  of  thee, 
then  whose  shall  those  things  be  which  thou  hast 
provided?"  Whose?  Whose?  There  is  just  one 
answer  to  that  question:  "Anybod^-'s  but  mine." 
Hell  is  helpless  impoverishment.  The  lake  that  burn- 
eth  "with  fire  and  brimstone"  is  a  soul  that  never 
had  a  thought  but  for  itself,  and  so  kindled  the  "fire." 
and  manufactured  all  through  life  the  "brimstone." 

To  the  believer,  to  the  man  or  the  woman  who 
loves,  the  loan  becomes  the  gift;  in  the  place  of  the 
borrower  you  see  now  the  owner.  "All  things  are 
ours"  if  we  love ;  if  we 'give  them  all  away.  The 
dynamos  of  the  spiritual  world,  the  more  the3-  gene- 
rate, the  more  they  send  forth  in  beatific  influence,  in 
electric  currents  of  blessing,  to  all  mankind. 

We  say,  in  the  parlance  of  the  market  place,  in  the 
sentiment  of  socity,  that  that  man  is  rich  who  has  so 
many  millions ;  that  man  is  wise  who  has  monopo- 
lized so  many  books;  that  man  is  famous  whose 
name  is  floating  on  so  many  lips,  familiar  as  house- 


THE  BRIGHT  SIDE. 


37 


hold  words.  This  thought  of  Paul's  we  have  had 
upon  our  hearts  to-day  says,  No.  The  rich  are  they 
that  possess  all  things,  having,  to  give  away.  The 
wise  are  the  true  inheritors,  who  look  with  clear  vis- 
ion into  the  unseen  things,  and  so  open  other  eyes.* 
The  famed  are  wearers  of  "the  crown  of  righteous- 
ness," because  they  have  prepared  other  brows  to 
wear  it.  The  thirteenth  chapter  of  First  Corinth- 
ians is  the  final  settlement  of  all  theologies.  Before 
it  all  confessions,  and  creeds,  and  catechisms,  and 
councils,  stand  in  judgment.  If  we  have  not 'iove" 
we  are  "a  sounding  bi-ass  and  a  tinkling  cvmbal." 
We  have  nothing,  because  we  are  nothing.  Cyphers 
have  no  capacity  of  possession;  nonentities  have  no 
grip.  If  we  love,  then  we  are  of  that  element  in  this 
viniver.se  that  ''never  faileth."  We  have  entered  into 
full  possession.  "All  things  are  ovirs."  Knowledge, 
gifts  of  tongues,  fountains  of  pleasure,  stores  of 
wealth — these  vanish  away.  He  who  has  onlv  these 
has  nothing.  Love  endureth  forever.  Love  inherits 
the  kingdom.  lie  who  breathes  its  hallowed  inspi- 
ration po.s.sesses  "all  things."  Tills  world  is  his. 
All  that  is  worth  an3'thing  in  it,  he  has.  The  next 
world  is  his.  "In  the  world  to  come  life  everlasting." 
God  is  his.  "He  that  abidcth  in  love  abideth  in  Ood, 
and  God  abideth  in  him."  When  a  man  or  a  woman 
is  in  God,  there  isn't  much  left  outside  of  that  that 
either  of  them  wants.  The  world  may  sa  v  that  such 
an  one  has  nothing.  Somebody  else  says:  "Having 
nothing,  yet  possessing  all  things." 


I  ^  I  Excellent  Greatness.  \^ 

Excellent  Greatness. — Ps.  CL:  2. 


WHEN  the  greatest  preacher  of  France,  the  sil- 
ver tongued  Massillon,  was  called  to 
preach  the  funeral  sermon  of  King  Louis, 
in  the  cathedral  -At  Paris,  in  the  presence  of  the  royal 
family,  the  legislators  and  the  diplomatic  corps,  with 
the  more  exalted  of  the  nobility  of  France,  he  took 
with  him  to  the  sacred  desk  a  little  golden  urn  con- 
taining a  lock  of  hair  of  the  late  king.  The  immense 
audience  was  seated,  and  the  stillness  as  of  death 
reigned  throughout  the  vast  assemblage.  Massillon 
arose,  holding  the  urn  in  his  fingers,  his  hand  resting 
upon  the  sacred  cushion.  All  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
him.  Seconds,  then  minutes  passed.  Massillon  stood 
motionless,  pale  as  a  statue.  The  feeling  became  in- 
tense. Many  believed  he  was  struck  dumb  before 
the  vast  assembly ;  many  sighed  and  groaned  aloud  ; 
many  eyes  were  suffused  with  tears ;  when  the  hand 
of  Massillon  was  seen  slowly  raising  the  little  golden 
urn,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  new  king.  As  the  hand 
was  returned  to  its  resting  place  upon  the  cushion, 
the  loud,  clear  voice  ot  Massillon  rang  throughout 
the  great  cathedral,  echoing  in  its  arches  above, 


40 


EXCELLENT  GREATNESS. 


"God  alone  is  great."  With  no  golden  urn  in  his 
hand,  as  he  plays  upon  the  strings  of  his  immortal 
hai-]3,  a  greater  and  more  eloquent  than  Massillon, 
sang  long  before  him,  "Great  is  the  Lord,  and  greatly 
to  be  praised  in  the  cit\^  of  our  God,  in  the  mountain 
of  his  holiness." 

"A  certain  pasha,  dead  five  thousand  years, 
Once  from  his  harem  fled  in  sudden  fears, 
And  had  this  sentence  on  the  citj-'s  gate 
Deeply  graven;  'Only  God  is  great.' 
So  these  four  words  above  the  pity's  noise 
Hung  like  the  accents  of  an  angel's  voice, 
And  evermore  from  the  high  barbican 
Saluted  each  returning  caravan. 
Lost  is  that  city's  glory.    Every  gust 
Lifts,  with  crisp  leaves,  the  unknown  pasha's  dust; 
And  all  is  ruin,  save  one  wrinkled  gate, 
Whereon  is  written:  'Only  God  is  great.'  " 

"Ascribe  3'e  gi-eatness  unto  our  God." 

But  that  which  most  impresses  me,  in  my  thought 
upon  this  subject,  is  the  conjunction  of  the  words 
"excellent  greatness."  I  have  been  thinking  more 
about  the  adjective  than  about  the  noun.  The  noun 
is  a  fact,  the  adjective  is  a  quality-.  The  one  tells  us 
about  a  thing;  the  other  tells  us  what  Jcind  of  a 
thing  it  is.  "Excellent  greatness."  And  these,  as 
they  have  come  to  me,  are  the  reasons. 

It  is  "excellent"  because  it  is  great  all  round.  On 
every -side.  In  every  direction.  Great  eveK'Aviler<?. 
When  vou  descend  td  the  plain  of  human' gfeatness^! 
you  come  into  an  entirely  different  titmospherfe.  It 
is  like  descending  from  the  Himalayas  to  some  insig- 
nificant knoll.    Here  you  have  greatness  with  limita, 


EXCELLENT  GREATNESS. 


41 


tions.  Men  and  women  are  great,  if  great  at  all,  only 
in  some  ways,  in  certain  directions,  in  a  limited  range 
of  character.  Great  in  some  things,  and  very  dimin- 
utive in  others.  You  do  not  very  often  find  a  man 
or  a  woman  who  is  great  all  round — on  ever}'  side, 
in  every  direction.  Of  whom  you  can  sa}',  in  the  lan- 
guage of  Mr.  Vrooman,  speaking  of  Chauncey  M.  De- 
pew,  "the  distinguished  all-around  man  of  the  world." 
Somewhere,  if  you  know  a  man  long  enough,  or 
a  woman,  you  will  discover  a  microscopic  minuteness, 
and  you  will  find  that  jonr  great  one  is  very  small. 
Xerxes  was  indisputably  great  as  he  stood  at  the 
head  of  his  vast  legions.  He  was  infinitesimally 
small  when,  in  his  petulance,  he  was  whipping  the 
waves  of  the  Hellespont  because  they  would  not  back 
at  his  bidding.  Alexander  was  great.  History  thus 
entitles  him.  Buthe  was  a  baby,  when  he  wept  that 
there  were  not  other  worlds  to  conquer.  Cfesar  was 
great.  But  he  was  little  in  that  qualitv  his  immor- 
tal eulogist  must  admit  when  he  sa3's:  "They  tell 
me  Cfesar  was  ambitious."  England's  most  illus- 
trious queen  was  great  in  noble  qualities;  no  mon- 
arch ever  wore  a  crown  more  gracefully;  but  she 
was  small  in  her  hatred  of  the  Queen  of  Scots, 
smaller  yet  in  her  flirtation  with  Leicester.  Napol- 
eon was  great.  Superlatively  great.  But  I  read  this 
about  him  the  other  day:  "The  first  Napoleon  had 
a  cowardly  dread  of  satire,  and  could  endure  any 
hardship  rather  than  be  made  to  appear  ridiculous. 
This  accounts  for  his  enmity  to  the  witty  Madame 
DeStael,    whose  merciless   tongue  spared  ^^no  one. 


42 


EXCELLENT  GREATNESS. 


There  is  something  more  than  ludicrous  in  the  spec- 
tacle of  this  rude  soldier  with  a  million  armed  men 
under  his  command,  and  half  Europe  at  his  feet,  sit- 
ting down  in  rage  and  affright  to  order  Fouche  to 
send  a  little  woman  over  the  frontiers  lest  she  should 
say  something  about  him  for  the  drawing  rooms  of 
Paris  to  laugh  at.  Yet  history  votes  this  man  a 
hero."  England's  matchless  statesman  measured 
nearest,  perhaps,  to  our  ideal  because  he  was  great 
in  so  many  directions.  Great  as  a  scholar,  great  as  a 
philosopher,  great  as  a  politician,  great  as  a  philan- 
thropist, great  as  a  reformer,  great  as  a  Christian. 
Nearest,  perhaps,  of  any  man  of  an}'  age  to  "great  all 
round."  Bismarck,  his  rival,  shrinks  into  a  pigmy, 
because,  in  so  many  elements  of  character,  he  is  small, 
very  small. 

It  is  the  familiar  fact  of  humanity.  Somewhere,  in 
all  human  greatness,  there  is  the  factor  of  weakness. 
The  old  maxim  says  that  "no  man  is  great  to  his 
valet."  His  valet  knows  him  too  well.  His  Httle- 
ness  is  sure  somewhere  to  crop  out.  And  I  think  this 
is  one  of  the  saddest  facts  of  human  life.  The  fact 
that  our  ideals  always,  at  some  point,  go  back  on 
us.  Our  idols,  if  we  have  them,  prove  of  clay.  Our 
Achilles  have  always  their  vulnerable  heel.  Perhaps 
some  public  man  to-day,  some  great  preacher  in 
the  pulpit,  or  some  author  over  whose  books  3'ou 
pore,  embodies  vour  conception  of  greatness.  How 
sad  would  be  the  discovery,  should  you  summer  and 
winter  with  that'subject  of  your  wildest  admiration, 
that  here  and  there  were  the  weak  points  and  amid 


EXCELLENT  GREATNESS. 


43 


all  the  greatness  the  littleness  as  well !  It  is  the  limi- 
tation of  our  nature.  Great  though  a  man  or  a 
woman  may  be,  and  great  as  they  may  be,  some- 
where they  are  small,  somewhere  greatness  gives 
out. 

But  we  are  thinking  in  contrast  to-day  of  the  excel- 
lent greatness,  that  is  great  everywhere,  great  on 
every  side,  harmoniously  great,  where  in  all  that 
infinite  nature  there  is  no  discordant  note.  The 
greatness  of  Him  who  is  great  in  every  thought  He 
ever  thinks,  in  every  emotion  He  ever  feels,  in  every 
plan  He  ever  adopts,  in  every  deed  He  ever  does  and 
in  the  way  He  always  does  it.  "Excellent  greatness" 
that  is  great  everywhere. 

God's  "greatness"  is  "excellent"  also  because  it  is 
independent  and  only  in  Himself.  Influences  from 
without  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Circumstances 
have  played  no  part  in  its  completeness — have  not 


SUCCESS  CROWNS  ALL  who  attend 

—  Haley's  Business  Institute  and   School  of 

—  Shorthand  and  Typewriting,  Fort  Ed- 
'W      ward,  N.  Y. 

Ever}'  graduate  has  employment. 


J.  W.  HALEY,  Principal. 

ESTABLISHED  9  YEARS. 


44 


EXCELLENT  GREATNESS. 


contributed  an  iota  to  its  perfection.  God  would  be 
just  as  great  if  there  were  not  another  being,  nor  a 
created  thing,  in  this  universe.  Great  independent!}'. 
Great  in  Himself  With  us,  greatness  is  very  largely 
the  creature  of  circumstances.  Our  surroundings, 
very  often,  make  us  what  we  are.  We  mount  with 
ladders,  where  God  is  on  high  in  His  nature.  We 
seize  the  "tide  in  the  affairs  of  men,  which,  taken  at 
the  flood,  leads  on  to  fortune,"  or  omit  it,  when, 
omitted,  "all  the  vo^^age  of  our  life  is  bound  in  shal- 
lows and  in  miseries." 

Voltaire  observes  in  his  sententious  way  that  "it 
was  fortunate  for  Cromwell  that  he  appeared  upon 
the  stage  at  the  precise  moment  when  the  people 
were  tired  of  kings;  and  as  unfortunate  for  his  son 
Richard,  that  he  had  to  make  good  his  pretensions 
at  a  moment  when  the  people  were  equally  tired  of 
protectors."  Had  there  been  no  Civil  War  where 
would  be  the  tanner  of  Galena,  whom  a  nation  and 
a  world  to-day  delight  to  honor?  Our  surround- 
ings so  largely,  mould  us.  Greatness  is  so  much  a 
creature  of  the  men  and  things  outside  of  us.  So 
much  a  product  of  where  and  when  we  are. 

The  "greatness"  of  our  God  is  "excellent  great- 
ness," because  it  is  all  His  own.  What  He  is  in  Him- 
self. "Who  hath  directed  the  spirit  of  the  Lord,  or 
being  His  counsellor  hath  taught  Him?  With  whom 
took  Hecounsel,  and  whoinstructed  Him,  and  taught 
Him  in  the  path  of  judgment,  and  taught  Him  knowl- 
edge, and  shewed  to  Him  the  way  of  understanding?" 
Who  had  anything  to  do  with  His  greatness?  "Ex- 


EXCELLENT  GREATNESS. 


45 


cellent  greatness"  because  it  is  all  His  own. 

It  is  "excellent"  also  because  it  is  pure.  It  is  the 
gold  of  character  where  there  is  no  alloy. 

"Greatness  and  p^oodness  are  not  means,  hut  ends, 

Hatli  he  nut  always  treasures,  always  friends, 

The  fjreat  man?  three  treasures,    l(p\e  and  li^'ht, 

And  cahn  thoiig-hts,  reg-ular  as  infant's  breath  ; 

And  three  firm  friends,  more  sure  than  day  and  nig-ht. 

Himself,  his  Maker,  and  the  angel  Death." 

The  poet  is  dreaming  in  the  realm  of  the  ideal, 
The  good  great  man  is,  as  the  world  goes,  a  chimera 
and  a  m^^th.  Goodness  and  greatness  seldom  marry. 
Nine  out  of  ten  would  rather  be  called  "great"  than 
"good"  because  the  one,  in  a  measure,  crowds  out 
the  other.  When  we  sav,  he  is  a  verv  good  man, 
what  do  we  generally  mean?  We  mean,  if  ho  is  a 
politician,  that  he  is  not  very  shrewd  ;  if  !ic  is  ri  law- 
yer, that  he  is  not  very  successful  with  juries;  if  he  is 
in  business,  that  he  will  never  get  very  rich;  if  lie  is 
in  the  pulpit,  that  he  isn't  much  of  a  preacher.  Is 
not  this  so?  Why,  in  our  method  of  speech,  good- 
ness and  greatness  are  divorced,  and,  in  our  way  of 
thinking,  the  one  excludes  the  other;  or,  if  not  that, 
puts  it  in  the  realm  of  the  imjirobable.  The  "excel- 
lent greatness"  of  our  God  is  without  a  stain,  spot- 
lessly pure.    Infinitely  good. 

It  is  excellent,  because  it  is  humble.  He  who  im- 
personated it,  in  human  flesh,  said  "I  am  meek  and 
lowly  in  heart."  That  was  his  analysis  of  the  divine 
that  was  in  Him.  That  was  His  description  of  the 
"excellent  greatness"  of  our  God.    The  greatness 


46 


EXCELLENT  GREATNESS. 


that  became  "of  no  reputation  and  took  upon  him 
the  form  of  a  servant;"  that  opens  to  humanity 
this  path  to  greatness:  "If  any  man  will  come  after 
me,  let  him  deny  himseli'  and  take  up  his  cross,  and 
follow  me." 

"That  man  is  great,  and  he  alone 
Who  serves  a  g-reatness  not  his  own, 

For  neither  praise  nor  pelf  : 
Content  to  know  and  be  unknown; 

Whole  in  himself." 

"He  that  humbleth  himself  shall  be  exalted." 

So  much  of  the  greatness  of  this  world  is  balloon 
greatness.  The  result  of  a  process  of  inflation. 
"Knowledge,"  says  Paul,  "puffeth  up.^'  "A  little 
knowledge," says  theproverb,  "is  adangerousthing," 
We  so  easily  lose  ourselves,  if  we  get  a  little  wa3-  up. 
It  is  dangerous  for  those  who  have  a  weakness  of 
heart  action  to  climb  mountains.  There  is  a  heart 
weakness  that  afflicts  us  all,  of  pride  and  conceit, 
that  makes  it  fatal  to  get  very  high.  So  God,  in  in- 
finite consideration,  keeps  us  down.  There  is  so  lit- 
tle greatness  in  this  world  that  is  humble. 

"But  man,  proud  man. 
Dressed  in  a  little  brief  authority. 
Most  i^'-norant  of  what  he's  most  assur'd, — 
His  g-lassy  cs^,ence  — like  an  ang-ry  ape. 
Plays  such  lant.istic  tricks  before  high  Heaven, 
As  make  tlie  angels  weep." 

The  "excellent  greatness"  is  the  greatness  of  Him 
who  "came  not  to  be  ministered  unto  but  to  minis- 
ter."  And  whose  greatness  is  revealed  in  lowliest 


EXCELLENT  GREATNESS. 


47 


acts.    Who  "maketh  small  the  drops  of  water." 

It  is  excellent,  also,  because  it  is  gentle  and  kind. 
It  is  the  tendency  of  strength  to  be  severe — of  human 
greatness  to  be  harsh  and  arrogant. 

"O,  it  is  excellent 

To  have  a  giant's  strengfth  ;  but  it  is  tyrannous 
To  use  it  as  a  giant." 

A  thing  the  giant  is  very  apt  to  do.  The  "excel- 
lent greatness"  is  gentle,  and  oh  !  it  is  wondrous  kind. 
The  east  and  the  west  winds,  Talmage  tells  us,  once 
entered  into  dispute  as  to  which  was  greater. 
"Don't  you  wish"  said  the  East  wind  to  the  West, 
"that  you  had  my  power?  When  I  start  they  hail 
me  by  storm  signals  all  along  the  coast.  With  one 
sweep  of  my  wing  I  have  strewn  the  coast  from  New- 
foundland to  Key  West  with  parted  shij)  timber.  I 
can  lift  the  Atlantic  ocean.  I  am  the  terror  of  all 
invalidism,  and  to  fight  me  back  forests  must  be  cut 
down  for  fires  and  the  mines  of  continents  are  called 
on  to  feed  the  furnaces.  Under  my  breath  the  nations 
crouch  into  sepulchres.  Don't  you  wish  you  had  my 
power?"  "The  west  wind,"  the  story  goes,  "made  no 
answer,  but  started  on  its  mis.sion,  coming  some- 
where out  of  the  rosy  bowers  of  the  sky,  and  all  the 
rivers  and  lakes  and  seas  smiled  at  its  coming.  The 
gardens  bloomed,  and  the  orchards  ripened,  and  the 
wheat  fields  turned  their  silver  into  gold,  and  health 
clapped  its  hands,  and  joy  shouted  from  the  hill  tops, 
and  the  nations  lifted  their  foreheads  into  light, 
and  the  earth  had  a  doxology  for  the  sky,  and  the 


48 


EXCELLENT  GREATNESS. 


sky  an  anthem  for  the  earth,  and  the  warmth,  and 
the  sparkle,  and  the  gladness,  and  the  foliage,  and 
the  flowers,  and  the  fruits,  and  the  beauty,  and  the 
life  were  the  answer  the  west  wind  gave  to  the  inso- 
lence of  the  east  wind's  interrogation."  "Excellent 
greatness,"  because  so  gentle  and  so  kind. 

In  Cromwell's  time  a  soldier  was  condemned  to  be 
executed  "at  the  ringilig  of  the  curfew."  He  was  en- 
gaged to  be  married  to  a  fair  and  beautiful  maiden. 
The  maiden  pleaded  with  the  judge  and  with  Crom- 
well for  pardon,  hxit  in  vain.  All  preparations  for 
the  execution  were  made,  and  all  awaited  the  signal 
bell.  The  sexton,  old  and  deaf,  threw  himself  upon 
the  rope,  as  was  his  custom,  but  there  was  no  sound. 
The  young  lady  had  climbed  the  belfry  stair,  and 
caught  and  held  the  tongue  of  the  bell  at  the  risk  of 
her  life.  At  length  the  bell  ceased  to  swing.  The 
deaf  old  sexton  supposed  he  had  rung  the  curfew. 
The  brave  lady  descended,  woimded  and  bleeding. 
Cromwell  came  to  demand  why  the  bell  was  silent. 
She  met  him,  and,  as  the  poem  reads, 

"At  his  feet  she  tokl  her  storj',  showed  her  hands  all  bruised 
and  torn; 

And  her  sweet  young-  face,  still  hag-gard  with  the  anyuish  it 
had  worn, 

Touched  his  heart  with  sudden   pity,  lit  his  eyes  with  misty 
light  : 

'Go,  your  lover  lives, 'cried  Cromwell,   'curfew  shall  not  ring 
to  nig-ht. '  " 

It  was  the  greatness  of  that  love  that  gives  itself- 
The  "excellent  greatness"  that  lays  down  its  life  for 
its  friends. 


EXCELLENT  GREATNESS. 


49 


We  witness  its  supreme  expression  in  Him  Who 
came  to  us  from  the  throne  and  the  glory,  Who  saved 
us  in  infinite  sacrifice,  and,  standing  Ijefore  His  cross 
of  ignomin\^  and  shame,  we  sav  with  the  immortal 
Massillon:  "Only  God  is  great."  On  Calvary,  where 
the  Son  of  God  is  bleeding,  where  He  breathes  out 
His  life  for  humanity,  amid  those  tears  of  infinite 
compassion,  amid  the  torture  and  the  pangs  of  dis- 
solution, we  see,  in  final  and  in  supreme  expression, 
the  ''excellent  greatness." 

"In  the  cross  of  Christ  I  glory, 

Towering  o'er  the  wrecks  of  time, 
All  the  light  of  sacred  storj' — " 

All  that  is  great,  all  that  is  glorious,  all  that  is 
beatific,  in  this  world,  or  an\'  other, 

"Gathers  round  its  liead  sublime," 
"Excellent  greatness." 


What's  in  a  INamc  ? 


Judas  (not  Iscariot)— /o-^w  XIV:22. 


HAT  deep  interest  and  what  hallowed  asso- 
ciationsinvest  that  memorable  roll  of  twelve 
men  that  we  call  familiarly  the  disci])les  of  our  Lord  ; 
eleven  of  whom  are  afterward  known  in  history  as 
His  inspired  apostles,  who,  in  their  infallibility  and 
authority,  have  no  peers,  and,  in  their  endowments 
and  gifts,  have  no  successors.  That  ini|)erish- 
able  roll  is  written  three  times  upon  the  ])afies  of 
this  revealed  word  where  it  will  last  while  ])aper  and 
printing  press  remain;  and  it  is  written  uj)  yondei", 
graven  in  the  foundations  of  the  walls  ot  the  cit\', 
there  to  remain  forever  when  ])a])cr  and  ])rinting 
press  are  no  more.  As  we  read  over  that  illustrious 
roll,  written  thrice  upon  these  ]);iges,  with  a  single 
change  graven  in  those  walls  on  liigh,  we  are  con- 
scious of  different  £uid  varied  im])rcssions.  Some 
have  attained  grcjit  proininencc,  and  what  we  inav 
.'ilmost  call  ]jrimacy,  in  the  historic  Church.  Otiicrs 
{)f  the  twelve  are  of  less  ])romiiience,  and  yet  clcarlv 
identified  in  liistorv,  allcrward  imniortalipccd  in  tra- 
dition.    But  an  interest  attaches  to  still  others  of 


52 


what's  in  a  name? 


this  memoraljle  roll  from  the  fact  that,  though  their 
names  arc  written  here  three  times  and  graven  in 
those  walls  of  immortality,  we  do  not  know  any- 
thing about  them,  and,  in  their  imperishable  fame, 
they  are  in  utter  obscurity.  The  immortal  unknown! 
Philip,  one  of  the  very  first  the  Saviour  met  and 
called  to  His  side,  and  never  heard  of  except  on  three 
occasions,  ;  once  when,  if  Andrew  will  go  with  him, 
he  will  tell  Jesus  that  some  Greeks  want  to  see  Him  ; 
another,  when  he  expresses  the  sentiment  that 
$28.00  worth  of  bread  will  not  be  sufficient  that  all 
that  multitude  may  take  a  little;  and  the  third, 
when  he  asks  to  see  the  Father,  and  says  he 
will  be  satisfied,  compelling  the  rebuke  of  his  Mas- 
ter: "Havel  been  so  long  time  with  you  and  yet 
hast  thou  not  known  me,  Philip?"  That  is  his  biog- 
raphy !  All  there  is  of  it.  One  of  the  twelve  apos- 
tles of  the  Lord,  a  name  inscribed  in  material  up 
yonder  that  will  not  crumble  when  granite  melts 
and  marble  pulverizes.  Simon,  the  Canaanite. 
How  much  do  we  know  about  him?  A  man  who 
spent  three  years  under  the  shadow  of  another 
Simon,  illustrious,  renowned,  and  is  distinguished 
from  jiini  by  his  gcograjjh}-.  "Judas,  not  Iscariot." 
Who  once  asked  the  Master  a  question.  One  inquir- 
ing thought  in  three  years.  One  manifestation  of 
interest  in  one  thousand  days  spent  with  Jesus.  So 
far  as  history  tells  us  anything.  "Judas  saith  imto 
Him,  not  Iscariot,  Lord,  how  is  it  that  thou  wilt 
manifest  th^'self  unto  us,  and  not  unto  the  world?" 
A  momentous  question.      The  wonder  is  that  he 


what's  in  a  name  ? 


53 


never  asked  any  more.  One  who  could  put  such  a 
question  as  that,  and  who  had  such  a  marvelous  op- 
poi  tunity,  such  a  grand  chance,  to  get  good  answers. 
In  the  roll  of  disciples,  as  given  by  Matthias,  his 
name  does  not  appear.  There  is  mention  of  one 
Lebbaeus,  whose  surname  was  Thaddeus.  It  is  the 
same  man.  This  Judas,  the  record  of  whose  life  is 
that  he  put  one  question  to  his  Lord,  is  unknown  to 
us,  although  he  is  named  so  particularly,  "Judas,  the 
brother  of  James,"  "Lebbaeus,  whose  surname  is 
Thaddeus,"  Judas  Lebbaeus  Thaddeus,  brother  of 
James,  not  Iscariot.  It  seems  as  though  we  were 
hunting  after  him  in  the  woods  of  a  multitudinous 
name.  He  is  identified,  but  about  in  the  same  way  as 
the  company  of  laborers  that  work  on  our  canals  and 
railroads,  who  are  known  by  the  number  on  their 
hats.  This  disciple  was  number  ten  in  that  circle  of 
twelve,  number  ten  on  those  walls  immortal. 

How  considerate  and  thoughtful  was  the  historian, 
John,  when  he  recalled  that  incident,  and  knew  how 
little  this  brother  of  his  would  be  known,  that  he 
should  say,  in  all  kindness  and  gentleness,  "Judas 
saith  unto  him,  not  Iscariot."  It  was  just  like  John 
to  do  that.  It  was  just  like  John's  Master,  on  Whose 
bosom  he  leaned,  and  Whose  inspiration  he  caught. 
There  is  so  much  in  a  name.  A  rose  would  not  smell 
as  sweet  by  any  other  name,  nor  mvrrh  taste  as  bit- 
ter. The  name  ro.sc,  in  all  that  it  recalls,  is  a  pleas- 
ant prompter  of  tlie  olfactories,  and  mvrrh  is  suo- 
gestive  of  bitterness.  There  is  so  much  in  a  name. 
That  name  Judas  stands  for  treason.   It  at  once  sug- 


54 


what's  in  a  name? 


gests  Iscariot.  The  biographer  who  doesn't  mean 
Iscariot  has  to  say  so,  or  he.  will  be  misunderstood. 
If  John  had  not  made  this  qualification,  everybody 
would  have  thought  that  that  vile  traitor  was  once 
inspired  to  ask  a  sensible  question,  that  once  in  his 
life  he  got  on  the  edge  of  an  exalted  spirituality ! 
But  no,  it  was  not  Iscariot.  It  was  "Judas,  not  Is- 
cariot"— the  other  Judas,  who  is  known  only  that  he 
was  not  that  one. 

Or,  on  the  other  hand,  and  differently,  take  the 
name  Peter.  We  almost  see  a  rock  spring  up  at  our 
feet  at  the  mention  of  the  word,  and  assume  massive 
proportions  and  gigantic  strength.  Thomas!  It 
means  doubt.  It  represents  the  agnosticism  of  1850 
years  ago.    John!     It  is  the  s\'non3'm  of  love. 

Or  go  back  farther  still.  Recall  those  Old  Testament 
names.  And  how  much  there  is  in  them.  Abraham, 
the  father  of  vast  multitudes,  of  the  millions  upon 
millions  upon  millions  that  should  believe,  father  of 
the  faithful.  Israel,  a  man  mighty  with  God,  who 
has  struggled  and  prevailed  I  Elijah,  strong  and 
valiant  and  heroic  in  the  Lord  his  God!  What  a 
transformation  in  a  name  when  Saul  of  Tarsus  be- 
came Paul,  the  apostle !  Saul,  the  persecutor;  Saul,  the 
bigoted  Jew;  Saul,  of  the  blood  red  hands  and  the 
murderous  heart.  Paul,  the  penitent  preacher ;  Paul, 
the  master  builder  of  the  early  Church  ;  Paul,  count- 
ing "all  things  but  loss  for  the  excellency  of  Christ 
Jesus,  his  Lord."  Saul!  Paul!  John  Knox  I  It 
seems  almost  to  sound  with  the  reverberations  of  the 
granite  hills  of  Scotland  he  consecrated  to  Christ  for 


what's  in  a  name? 


55 


all  time !  Florence  Nightingale !  Miss  Dix  !  Clara 
Barton !  How  like  a  canvass  do  these  names  loom 
before  us,  and,  in  fairest  shades  and  softest  col- 
ors, how  do  we  see  limned  upon  their  imperishable 
texture  self  sacrifice,  endurance,  heroism,  "pure  and 
undefiled  religion."  And  what  shall  I  say  of  that 
Name  that  is  above  every  name — the  Name  at  which 
every  knee  shall  bow  and  every  tongue  confess? 

"There  is  no  name  so  sweet  on  earth, 

No  name  so  dear  in  heaven — 
The  name  that  at  our  Saviour's  birth 

Was  by  the  angels  given. " 

"How  sweet  the  name  of  Jesus  sounds 

In  the  believer's  ear  ; 
It  soothes  his  sorrows,  heals  his  wounds, 

And  drives  away  his  fear." 

Or  take  the  dark  and  revolting  colors,  as  we  look 
upon  a  very  different  picture,  as  we  recall  the  names 
that  are  identified  with  earth's  scenes  of  base  iniq- 

SUCCESS  CROWNS  ALL  who  attend 

—  Haley's  Business  Institute  and  School  of 

—  Shorthand  and  Typewriting,  Fort  Ed- 
"T       ward,  N.  Y. 

Every  graduate  has  employment. 

J.  W.  HALEY,  Principal. 

ESTABLISHED  9  YEARS. 


56 


what's  in  a  name? 


uity  and  ever  recurring  crime,  and  how  much  there 
is  in  a  name!  The  brand  was  on  Cain's  forehead 
while  he  lived,  and  the  brand  has  been  upon  his  name 
ever  since  the  day  he  slew  his  brother.  We  almost 
see  the  tawny  skin  and  listen  to  the  woes  of  the  col- 
ored race  in  the  name  of  Ham.  How  Delilah  sounds 
of  trcjichery  !  How  the  name  of  Sisera  hisses  with 
the  hostility  of  the  enemies  of  the  Lord  !  How  does 
Ahab  reverberate  with  the  rebellion  and  apostacy 
that  closed  the  windows  of  heaven  and  kept  back 
the  rain,  according  to  the  word  of  Elijah  !  Nero!  It 
seems  to  trickle  with  the  blood  of  martyrs,  and  to 
gleam  with  the  lurid  fires  he  kindled  at  their  feet ! 

Sometimes  a  name  that  is  applied  in  derision  and 
scorn  becomes  historic,  and,  through  the  deeds  of 
those  who  bear  it,  is  typical  of  elemental  principles 
and  immortal  truths.  We  read  in  the  Acts  that 
"believers  were  first  called  Christians  in  Antioch." 
It  was  a  term  of  abuse.  It  identified  them  with 
Christ  the  Crucified,  the  executed  criminal  of  Galilee, 
with  a  man  who  had  been  hanged.  "Christians." 
But  how  that  name, has  been  ennobled,  hallowed, 
transfigured  b\-  the  heroism  of  the  ages,  by  the  self 
sacrifice  of  the  pure  and  the  true  and  the  good  of  all 
ages  and  times,  b}-  the  amelioration  of  humanity,  hy 
the  civilization  of  the  peoples,  by  the  regeneration  of 
the  world  !  That  word  "Christian,"  applied  in  con- 
tempt in  Antioch,  bounds  the  world's  progi-ess. 
outlines  the  world's  hope. 

The  term  "Whig"  was  applied  in  early  English 
history  as   a    term    of  derision,   denoting  whey, 


what's  in  a  name 


57 


that  which  has  no  solid  substance,  no  fixed  con- 
sistency;  it  meant  dough-face  and  trimmer.  But 
so  worthy  and  so  stalwart  and  so  true  were  they 
who  bore  that  name,  that  it  took  on  a  new 
aspect,  and  unnumbered  have-  been  the  statesmen 
of  Britain,  down  to  the  greatest  statesmen  of  them 
all,  who  have  been  ]3roud  to  wear  it,  and  who 
have  emblazoned  it  as  an  insignia  of  honor. 

Methodist  was  a  term  applied  to  the  followers  of 
Wesle\-,  in  ridicule  of  the  new  methods  of  worship  they 
introduced  into  England's  quiet  ritual.  Those  meth- 
ods gave  it  life,  they  have  been  carried  over  the  sea 
and  have  filled  this  land  of  ours  with  the  warmth  of 
Christian  love,  the  glowing  ardor  of  religious  zeal, 
and  there  is  no  nobler  name  in  Christendom,  no 
grander  title  of  the  followers  of  the  Lord.  The  hum- 
blest child  of  God  who  walks  under  that  banner  of 
Methodism  has  reason  to  be  proud  of  his  colors. 
Those  colors  have  been  made  radiant  and  magnificent 
with  the  devotion  of  her  gallant,  her  heroic  sons. 

How  does  the  romancist,  Scott,  throw  a  whole 
volume  of  history  into  the  boast  of  his  hero,  in  Rob 
Roy,  in  the  force  of  his  name  as  it  falls  like  hot  shot 
from  a  gun  : 

"My  foot  is  on  my  native  heath, 
And  my  name  i.s  MacGregor!" 

In  our  familiar  intercourse  of  every  day,  how  disa- 
greeable and  revolting  become  the  names  of  those 
whose  characters  we  dislike,  by  whose  natures  we 
are  repelled.    And  how  sweet  are  the  names  of  those 


58 


what's  in  a  name? 


we  love.  I  have  not  much  doubt  that  the  j^oung  men 
who  fell  in  love  with  Job's  daughters  thought  their 
names  were  charmingly  sweet,  and  they  were  these  : 
"Jemima,"  "Kezia"  and  "Keren-happuch."  They 
were  lovely  to  those  who  loved  them. 

"Who  hath  not  owned,  with  rapture  smitten  frame. 
The  power  of  grace,  the  magic  of  a  name?" 

The  explanation  that  the  disciple,  John,  thought  it 
necessary  to  make  in  this  text,  that  the  Judas  who 
asked  this  question  was  not  Iscariot,  is  suggestive 
of  the  alarming  fact  that  a  good  name,  a  name  of 
honor  and  dignity,  can,  by  a  base  and  wicked  life, 
become  a  title  of  disgrace,  and  a  synonym  of  dis- 
honor. Judas  Iscariot!  It  is  sulphurous  with  the 
atmosphere  of  the  lost.  It  savers  of  utterest  pollu- 
tion. And  yet,  that  name  Judas,  when  it  was  given 
by  his  mother  to  that  babe  who  would  one  day  dis- 
grace it,  was  one  of  the  most  honored  and  exalted  in 
Israel.  It  was  the  same  as  Judah  in  Hebrew,  and 
was  identified  with  all  the  glamour  and  grandeur 
that  encircled  that  chosen  tribe  from  whom  should 
come  some  day  the  Lion  of  the  tribe  of  Judah — whom 
a  Judah  should  betray.  When  he  took  that  mone\', 
when  the  clank  of  those  pieces  of  silver  was  heard, 
he  plunged  that  name  of  highest  honor  into  the  pit 
of  lowest  infamy,  and,  the  glory  it  portrayed  was 
covered  with  the  slime  of  the  perfidy  that  made  it 
a  hissing  forever. 

The  monument  erected,  in  such  matchless  beauty-, 
on  the  hill  side  in  Saratoga  county,  N.  Y.,  overlook- 


what's  in  a  name? 


59 


ing  the  plains  that  witnessed  the  surrender  of  Bur- 
goync,  has  a  statue  in  each  of  three  of  its  four  cor- 
ners above  its  base,  while  the  fourth  is  a  vacant 
niche.  The  other  three  are  generals  who  were  asso- 
ciated in  command,  the  fourth  bears  the  name  of 
Benedict  Arnold,  where  there  stands  no  statue.  He 
deserved  none.  The  name  is  vocal  of  his  base  betrayal 
and  the  vacant  space  is  eloquent  of  his  dishonor. 

The  legend  goes  that  Reputation,  Love  and  Death 
once  started  forth  to  travel  in  different  directions 
over  the  earth.  At  parting,  each  told  where  he 
might  be  found.  Death  said  they  would  hear  of  him 
in  battles,  hospitals,  and  where  famine  or  disease 
were  raging.  Love  said  they  might  look  for  him 
among  the  children  of  the  poor,  at  marriage  feasts, 
and  always  among  the  virtuous  and  pure.  Reputa- 
tion said  reluctantly,  that  if  he  once  left  a  man,  they 
might  never  look  for  him  there  again. 

"Good  name,  in  man  and  woman,  dear  my  lord, 
I.s  the  immediate  jewel  of  their  souls." 

Who  steals  my  purse,  steals  trash  :  't  is  something,  nothing-; 
'T  was  mine,  't  is  his  ;  and  has  been  slave  to  thousands  : 
But  he  that  filches  from  me  my  good  name, 
Robs  me  of  that  which  not  enriches  him. 
And  makes  me  poor  indeed." 

He  who  sells  the  birthright  of  his  name  finds  "no 
room  for  repentance  though  he  (seek)  it  carefully 
and  with  tears."  The  Jezebels,  the  Borgias,  the 
Philijjs  II,  the  Henry  VIII,  the  De  Medici— these 
are  names  that  will  resound  through  the  ages  with 
the  clamor  of  their  crimes,  and  the  eternities  will 
re-echo  with  the  outcry  of  their  cruelties. 


60 


what's  in  a  name? 


The  lesson  is  a  serious  and  practical  one.  What 
are  we  doing  with  the  name  we  bear?  It  is  the  name 
that  will  be  ours  through  the  eternities.  Up  yonder 
all  titles  will  be  forgotten  and  we  shall  be  known  by 
thenameourmothers  gave  us.  What  meaning  arewe 
attaching  in  these  lives  of  ours  to  the  names  we  bear? 
As  the  product  of  character,  as  the  ripe  fruit  of 
what  we  are,  what  shall  be  the  significance  of  that 
name  when  it  shall  be  pronounced  for  the  first  time 
at  the  bar  of  judgment,  and  as  it  shall  remain  for- 
ever? Shall  it  be  an  insignia  of  ineffable  glory,  or  a 
badge  of  dark  dishonor?  Shall  it  be  a  name  written 
in  the  book  of  life,  or  a  name  never  mentioned  in  the 
converse  of  heaven,  in  the  memories  of  the  skies? 

As  I  have  suggested,  it  was  a  humble  and  lowly 
station  that  was  assigned  to  this  disciple  of  our  text, 
when  he  was  identified  only  by  what  he  was  not. 
"Not /scc^r^o^."  Not  the  bad  one.  A  negative  char- 
acter only.  Not  known  to  us  for  any  good  he  ever 
did,  but  only  that  he  did  not  do  the  base  and  wicked 
deed  that  was  consummated  in  the  presence  of  the 
priests.  And  3'et,  how  many  and  how  multiplied  are 
his  com]:)anions  in  every  age  and  time.  Negative 
quantities  only.  Who  have  not  done  much  hurt,  be- 
cause thev  have  not  done  much  of  auA'thing.  "Not 
Iscariot."  In  the  family,  simply  living  on,  eating 
their  three  meals  a  day,  and  sleeping  their  eight  or 
ten  hours.  In  society,  dead  weights.  So  much  bag- 
gage to  be  carried.  In  the  Church,  pillows,  not  pillars; 
sleepers,  not  beams.  Not  notoriously  bad.  And  not 
much  of  anything  else. 


what's  in  a  name? 


61 


And  vet,  I  do  not  know  but  that  it  will  be  a  very  • 
blessed  thing  when  we  come  to  the  close  of  these 
fitful,  changeful  lives  of  ours,  if  it  can  then  be  truly 
said,  even  if  nothing  more  can  be  said,  that  we  are 
not  of  the  bad,  and  vicious,  and  depraved — "not 
Iscariot."  It  was  ver^^  much  the  encomium  of  the 
Master  upon  the  approaching  Nathanael :  "Behold 
an  Israelite  indeed  in  whom  there  is  no  guile."  Noth- 
ing bad.  If  we  shall  escape  the  evil  of  the  world, 
where  there  are  so  many  temptations,  somany  hostile 
forces,  so  many  unseen  powers,  moving  mightily 
upon  our  souls;  if  we  shall  come  off  unscathed, 
our  garments  undefiled,  "conquerors  and  more  than 
conquerors  through  Him  that  loved  us," — not  Iscar- 
iot, not  allies  of  evil,  not  lost  victims  of  sin,  not  ca])- 
tives  at  last  of  the  great  enemy  ;  surelv  this  will  be 
the  anthem  of  our  endless  song,  and  the  theme  of 
loudest  praise.  If,  in  our  opinions,  where  there  are 
so  many  vagaries,  so  many  refuges  of  lies,  we  are  not 
led  into  fatal  error.  If  these  hearts  are  not  burned 
away  by  base,  unworthy  loves.  If  these  souls  are 
not  bcirtered  for  the  world,  and  that  final  question 
\nit,  "what  shrill  a  man  give  in  exchange  lor  his 
soul?" 

The  only  reason  that  this  Judas  of  our  text  was 
"not  Iscariot,"  was  that  the  Master  kej)t  him  from 
being  that,  and  held  him  in  the  hollow  of  His  hand 
By  the  grace  of  God  we  are  what  we  tire.  There 
were  the  two  Judases  in  the  immediate  presence  <  <f  the 
Christ.  Judas  Iscariot  sold  his  Master.  "Judas,  the 
brother  of  James,"  "Lebbaeus,  vviiose  surname  was 


62 


what's  in  a  name? 


•Thaddens,"  "not  Iscariot,"  wrote  that  epistle  of  Jude, 
that  thunders  down  through  the  ages  with  its  de- 
nunciation of  sin,  its  ceaseless  cannonade  against  the 
ungodly.  Where  was  the  difference  ?  In  that  sover- 
eign grace  on  which  we  are  absolutely  dependent, 
without  which  a  world  would  be  Iscariot,  but  by 
which  we  shall  be  lions,  every  one,  of  the  tribe  of 
Judah. 


Go,  Call  Thy  Husband.— yoZ/w  IV:i6. 


■^^HE  Master  is  conversing  with  a  woman,  who 
has  had  no  advantages  in  life,  who,  in  the  es- 
teem of  His  race,  is  reprobate  and  an  outcast,  and 
who,  on  the  terms  of  Jewish  theology,  has  not  the 
remotest  chance  of  getting  to  heaven.  He  has  probed 
into  her  inmost  soul,  has  found  there  a  spark  of  gen- 
uine spiritualit}',  and  has  kindled  it,  in  a  moment, 
into  a  flame.  She  is  an  aspirant  for  the '  'living  water. ' ' 
She  wants  to  be  a  good  woman,  and,  so  far  as  the 
idea  has  taken  tangible  shape,  she  proposes  to  be  a 
christian.  The  first  duty  the  Master  suggests,  as  .she 
forms  this  resolve,  is  that  she  shall  go,  call  her  hus- 
band, and,  in  his  companionship  and  society,  follow 
her  Lord. 

This  incident  leads  us  at  once  to  think  of  the  ab- 
sent husbands  to-day.  The  absent  fathers,  brothers 
and  sons  come  with  them  to  our  thought.  The 
milder  weather  of  returning  spring  and  the  favorable 
condition  of  the  roads  emphasize  forcibly  and  im- 
pressively the  theme  of  the  hour.  The  preacher's 
most   alarming  rival,    in    this    year   1899,   is  the 


64 


THE  CHURCH  AND  THE  MEN. 


wheel.  It  threatens  wholly  to  supplant  him.  I 
would  rather  preach  in  the  open  air,  in  a  high  wind 
dead  againat  me,  than  against  a  wheel,  whatever 
the  manufacture.  The  best  friend  a  preacher  has  to- 
day is  a  punctured  tire. 

Where  the  wheel  is  outgrown,  and  where  scorching 
has  no  attractions,  the  cares  of  business  and  the  inter- 
ests of  politics  take  their  place.  It  becomes  difficult 
for  a  spiritual  influence  to  squeeze  in  edgeways.  Al- 
most any  device  to  attract  attention  would  be  legiti- 
mate. Would  that  the  Church  had  the  ingenuity  to 
invent  it.  If  wecould  provide  some  such  entertainment 
as  a  town  caticus  for  instance,  we  should  be  confident 
of  success.  I  tried  a  prayer  meeting  side  b}'  side  with 
one  of  these  institutions  a  few  years  ago.  The  prayer 
meeting  came  out  several  lengths  behind,  and  the 
caucus  scored  one.  It  was  not  because  the  caucus 
had  under  consideration  subjects  of  greater  import- 
ance, or  interests  more  vital  to  men,  though  the  men 
were  all  there.  The  caucus  considered  the  nomina- 
tion for  village  offices,  for  which  nine  out  of  ten  care 
not  a  flip.  The  prayer  meeting  was  called  for  the 
consideration  of  a  theme  for  which  men,  no  less  than 
women,  care  everything.  I  saw  at  one  hour,  one 
evening,  about  thirt}^  at  a  prayer  meeting,  including 
seven  men,  and,  at  another  hour  the  same  evening, 
seven  hundred  at  a  minstrel  show,  and  the  propor- 
tion of  men  in  no  degree  deficient.  It  was  a  very 
good  minstrel  show.  It  was  conducted  by  some  of 
our  brightest  and  most  interesting  young  men.  But 
the  prayer  meeting  was  as  important,  view  it  from 


THE  CHURCH  AND  THE  MEN. 


65 


any  aspect  of  thought  you  please.  It  was  as  intel- 
lectual, as  ennobling,  as  spiritualizing,  whatever  the 
multiplicity  of  its  imperfections. 

Now  all  this  is  utterly  unnatural.  If  a  town  cau- 
cus or  a  minstrel  show  were  held  once  a  week,  and  a 
praj'er  meeting  once  a  year, perhaps  the  apparent  inter- 
est, and  the  comparative  numbers,  would  be  reversed. 
Perhaps  there  would  be  empty  benches  at  the  caucus 
and  therninstrel  show,  and  a  jam  at  the  prayer  meet- 
ing. Novelty  goes  a  great  ways.  The  famous  Athe- 
nians have  many  successors  who  spend  "their  time 
in  nothing  else,  but  either  to  tell  or  to  hear  some  new 
thing."  Paul  conducted  the  first  prayer  meeting 
among  those  citizens  of  Athens,  and  the  streets  were 
thronged.  Had  he  made  a  weekly  appointment,  the 
numbers  might  have  diminished  and  the  interest 
dwindled.  This  is  the  most  satisfactory  explanation 
of  the  contrast  between  the  crowd  at  a  circus  and  the 
scarcit\^  atachurch  service,  especially  of  the  masculine 
gender.  In  themselves  there  is  no  superior  attrac- 
tion, bad  as  human  nature  is,  in  a  ring  over  a  church 
parlor,  or  in  a  clown  over  a  preacher.  The  infrequency 
largely  explains  the  apparent  success. 

I  believe  that  when  a  baby  is  born,  there  is  no  es- 
sential difference  of  moral  and  spiritual  tendencies  in- 
wrought in  its  sex.  There  are  certain  constitutional 
and  temperamental  contrasts  that  are  a  matter  of  sex. 
And  the  baby  boys  will  incline  to  play  horse,  and  the 
baby  girls  to  play  doll.  And  yet  these  contrasts  are 
often  found  wanting,  and  the  boy  will  take  the  doll, 
and  the  girl  the  horse.  Certainly  there  are  no  moral  ele- 


66 


THE  CHURCH  AND   THE  MEN. 


merits  that  are  wrapped  up  in  the  composition  of  a 
baby  girl,  and  that  are  not  found  in  a  baby  boy. 
One  is  just  as  good  as  the  other  at  the  starting  point 
in  the  race  of  life,  and,  other  things  being  equal,  they 
will  keep  pretty  nearly  neck  to  neck  all  the  way 
along.  The  surroundings  and  the  environment  in 
the  early  life  of  the  boy  are  all  against  him,  while,  in 
the  growing  period  of  girlhood,  they  are  very  gener- 
ally favorable.  It  is  the  noise  and  bustle  and  confu- 
sion of  the  street  against  the  quiet  and  calm  and  or- 
derliness of  the  home.  At  the  period  when  the  best 
fellow  means  the  best  fighter,  the  best  girl  means  the 
sweetest  and  the  gentlest  specimen  of  her  sex.  But 
as  the  boy  and  the  girl  are  made,  there  is  no  essential 
inferiority,  as  to  intellect,  or,  more  important  still,  as 
to  morals.  The  one  wants  to  be  good  and  go  to 
heaven  just  as  naturally  as  the  other.  The  one  holds 
the  head  just  as  high  as  the  other — alike  poised 
toward  the  stars. 

I  therefore  reject,  most  resoluteljs  any  explanation 
of  present  conditions  that  argues  an  essential  differ- 
ence, a  temperamental  contrast,  in  the  one  sex  as 
compared  with  the  other.  I  believe  that  men  con- 
stitutionally and  temperamentally  are  just  as  much 
inclined  to  all  that  is  worthy  and  noble  and  upright 
and  good  as  women,  and  that  Paul's  counsel  as  to 
"  whatsoever  things  are  lovely  and  of  good  report  " 
is  addressed  with  equal  force  and  with  equal  appli- 
cability to  either  sex.  Nature's  nobleman  is  man, 
male  and  female,  created  in  the  image  of  God,  with  do- 
minion, joint  and  separate,  overthecreatures.  God's 


THE  CHURCH  AND  THE  MEN. 


67 


image  is  on  the  soul,  where  there  rises  no  question  of 
sex.  Everybody  is  reading  David  Harum.  I  confess 
frankly  that  I  do  not  Hke  the  book.  The  love  story 
that  runs  through  parts  of  it  is  excessively  dull. 
The  dialect  becomes  wearisomely  tedious.  The 
whiskey  drinking  gives  the  whole  thing  a  bad  odor. 
And  David  Harum's  summary  dismission  of  church 
going  is  an  insult  to  respectable  society,  and  utterly 
unworthy  of  any  respectable  man. 

I  am  inclined,  entertaining  these  convictions,  to  ac- 
count for  the  alarming  conditions  that  confront  us, 
our  women  generally  in  church  and  considerablv  in 
prayer  meeting,  our  men  at  theofFice  or  the  club  or  the 
store  or  at  the  factory  or  on  the  lounge,  in  two  ways. 
First,  the  loss,  temjjorarily,  on  the  part  of  the  men, 
of  the  sense  of  fairness  and  equity  in  this  whole  mat- 
ter; and,  secondly,  a  serious  mistake  on  tiieir  part, 
also,  as  to  the  relative  importance  of  conflicting 
claims,  when  certain  interests  clash,  and  when  busi- 
ness and  affairs  call  one  way,  and  the  services  of  re- 

SUCCEvSS  CROWNS  ALL  who  attend 
Haley's  Business  Institute  and  School  of 
—  Shorthand  and  Typewriting,  Fort  Ed- 
W      ward,  N.  Y. 

Every  graduate  has  em]3lo3'ment. 

J.  W.  HALEY,  Principal. 

ESTABLISHED  9  YEARS. 


68 


THE  CHURCH  AND  THE  MEN. 


ligion  call  the  other.  First,  I  think  that  many  of  my 
sex,  of  which  I  am  grateful  to  be  a  member,  are  for- 
getting the  sense  of  fairness  and  equity,  that  has 
been  so  honorably  and  so  worthily- displayed  in  other 
ways  toward  the  gentler  sex.  Wehave  been  devoting 
a  large  share  of  our  time  in  recent  legislation,  and  a 
considerable  space  upon  the  pages  of  our  statute 
books,  to  the  emancipation  and  elevation  of  woman. 
It  is  the  brightest  spot  in  our  SA'stem  of  legal  enact- 
ment. It  most  clearly  manifests  the  essential  nobil- 
ity that  inheres  in  the  manliness  of  man.  The  male 
man.  We  have  been  dissolving  fetters  that  once  were 
forged.  We  have  been  severing  chains  that  once 
were  welded.  We  have  been  repudiating  yokes  that 
once  were  galling.  We  have  made  the  slave  our 
queen.  And  all  doors  are  flying  open.  All  avenues 
invite.  The  academy,  the  college,  the  university,  the 
counting  room,  the  office,  the  professions — all  stand 
before  woman  to  day  with  open  gates,  bidding  her 
enter,  and  enjoy  their  amplest,  largest  awards.  This 
has  been  the  essential,  the  inherent,  fairness,  that 
dwells  in  the  bosom  of  an  honorable  and  a  manly 
man.  It  has  compelled  equality  for  woman.  Not 
many  years  from  now,  under  the  same  compulsion  of 
absolute  equity,  by  the  laws  enacted  by  men,  she  will 
teach  and  doctor  and  preach  and  vote,  in  equal  num- 
bers, and  with  equal  success,  with  the  voluntary' 
donor  of  her  coming  rights,  and  her  growing  obliga- 
tions. 

But  this  same  sense  of  fairness,  that  has  compelled 
this  result,  in  the  vital  interests  of  our  holy  religion 


THE  CHURCH  AND  THE  MEN. 


69 


has  been  forgotten.  Here  man  has  lost  sometimes 
his  chivalry.  In  the  services  of  the  sanctuar3%  four- 
fifths  many  times  are  women.  In  the  circle  for 
prayer,  sometimes  seven-eighths.  In  Sunday  school 
work,  nine-tenths.  May  we  not  appeal  to  this  inher- 
ent sense  of  fairness  and  equity  in  the  manly  bosom, 
that  in  so  many  spheres,  has  done  so  much  and  so 
noblv  for  woman?  As  we  have  emancipated  her 
from  grossest,  basest  servitude,  as  we  have  opened 
to  her  widely  every  door  of  usefulness  and  opportu- 
nity, let  us  not  leave  her  so  alone  to  do  the  world's 
most  vital  work,  to  conserve  the  most  sacred  inter- 
ests, to  uphold  the  citadel  of  our  most  holy  faith. 
For  it  is  unmanly,  it  is  dishonorable  thus  to  desert 
her.  The  abandonment  and  the  glaring  discourtesy 
should  mantle  all  our  cheeks  with  shame. 

Then  the  second  consideration  that  I  have  suggested 
seems  to  me  pertinent  to  this  subject.  In  the  present 
conditions  that  confront  us,  I  think  that  many  of  our 
men  have  not  only  forgotten  the  sense  of  fairness  and 
equity  to  the  gentler  sex,  but  that  they  have  also 
seriously  mistaken  the  relative  importance  of  the  inter- 
ests that  are  to-day  committed  to  their  trust.  In 
their  conduct,  if  not  in  their  hearts,  they  have  res- 
olutely and  deliberately  concluded  to  place  business, 
and  public  affairs  above  the  services  of  rcHgion,  and  to 
give  the  former  and  not  the  latter  the  first  place.  That 
is  a  simple  matter  of  fact.  I  think  it  will  be  ad- 
mitted. When  the  two  interests  clash,  the  larger 
portion  of  our  men  propose  to  attend  to  business 
and  affairs,  and  leave  religion  to  the  women.  Some 


70 


THE  CHURCH  AND  THE  MEN. 


of  those  who  are  under  forty  years  of  age,  and,  in 
sporadic  cases,  beyond  that  limit,  have  put  the  wheel 
in  this  highest,  most  demanding  place.  It  has  be- 
come a  substitute  for  the  sanctuary.  The  statel}' 
tone  of  the  church  bell  has  no  longer  a  melody  in 
the  ears,  amid  the  tinkling  of  a  little  bell  to  which 
they  have  given  their  real  selves.  Now,  I  am  not  go- 
ing to  ad  vance  any  radical  theories.  I  have  not  a 
syllable  to  say  about  the  use  of  the  wheel  on  Sunday. 
Simply  a  suggestion  as  to  the  use  of  the  wheel  when 
our  conscience  tells  us  we  ought  to  bein  Church;  when 
we  prefer  a  spin  to  a  sermon,  and  a  ride  over  the 
hills  to  a  seat  in  the  congregation.  I  say  that  is  a 
reversal  of  all  right  relations.  That  is  a  betra^-al  of 
highest  trusts.    That  is  treason  to  our  truest  self. 

And  I  would  not,  by  any  means,  belittle  the  claims 
of  business  and  the  professions,  or  the  importance  of 
public  affairs  in  which  many  are  so  manfully  and  so 
honorably  engaged.  If  they  should  neglect  their  bus- 
iness, it  would  be  a  cold  day  for  the  Church.  If  they 
did  not  keep  money  in  their  till,  I  don't  know  what 
would  become  of  missions.  And  if  they  who  are 
loyal  to  the  interests  of  honesty  and  integrity  in  pub- 
lic affairs,  and  who  are  laboring  for  puritj' in  politics, 
should  withdraw  from  the  contest,  the  reign  of  right- 
eousness would  cease,  and  the  Church  would  go  to 
the  wall. 

This  industry  in  business,  this  fidelity  in  public  af- 
fairs, are  vital  to  the  Church,  and  not  one  word  of 
mine  shall  diminish  or  chill  the  manly  enthusiasm, 
or  the  untiring  spirit  that  is  displayed.    But  may  I 


THE  CHURCH  AND  THE  MEN 


71 


not  enter  this  plea  ?  That  we  shall  put  the  interests 
of  our  holy  religion  close  beside  these  interests  that 
so  many  times  are  uppermost  ?  That  we  shall 
thoughtfully  arrange  the  appointments  of  the  one 
with  reference  to  the  arrangements  of  the  other.  That 
the  two  may  not  be  in  conflict  but  in  harmony. 
That  there  may  not  be  collision,  as  heretofore,  but 
co-operation.  That  the  industry  that  has  been  dis- 
played in  our  own,  may  characterize  our  attention 
to  the  Lord's,  business.  That  our  fidelity  to  public 
affairs  may  extend  to  the  affairs  of  the  soul.  I  stood 
with  unqualified  and  unbounded  admiration,  a  few 
years  ago,  in  the  presence  of  an  audience  of  noble 
and  manly  men,  at  the  banquet  of  the  Knights  Tem- 
plar. I  recognize  the  claims  of  that  most  worthy  or- 
der. I  am  glad  that  it  has  enlisted  in  its  service 
many  of  our  best  and  ablest  men.  Men  who,  at  its 
bidding,  will  march  through  driving  rain,  and 
throng  a  church  service  if  it  is  appointed  by  the  or- 
der. But  the  Chief  Captain  of  the  Commandcry  is 
the  Head  of  the  Church.  The  Church  is  His  Own  or- 
dained institution  before  the  first  knight  templar 
was  born.  Nay,  that  little  band  of  heroic  men  and 
women  in  the  first  centuries  who  laid  down  their 
lives  for  that  Master  were  knights  templar  every 
one,  and  when  we  follow  in  their  steps,  and  give  our- 
selves, we  reflect  most  clearly  the  spirit  of  this  noble 
order,  and  we  rise  to  holiest  knighthood. 

The  Church  needs,  needs  imperatively  our  men. 
Woman  may  do  her  work  never  so  well,  as  woman 
does,  and  for  which  her  praise  shall  be  forever  within 


72 


THE  CHURCH  AND  THE  MEN. 


the  gates.  But  she  cannot  do  the  work  of  men. 
Our  men  cannot  discharge  their  responsibility,  hang- 
ing some  day  to  her  skirts.  He  Who  once  said,  "Go, 
call  thy  husband,"  says  to  day:  "Come  husband, 
father,  brother,  son;  come,  where  mightiest  interests 
summon  you,  where  claims  that  are  vital  are  utter- 
ing their  voice,  where  the  Church  stands  waiting  for 
your  ministry." 


The  Ascension  of  Our  Lord. 

Is  Not  This  The  Carpenter? — Mark  VI:  j. 


'^'HE  ascension  of  our  Lord  was  the  event  of  su- 
preme  exaltation  in  His  earthly  life,  of  which  sin- 
gle moments  in  His  past  gave  glimpses,  and  of  which 
those  moments  were  the  sublime  foretelling.  Now 
and  then,  in  the  days  gone  b}',  there  were  flashes  of 
the  ineffable  glory  into  which  He  now  passed, 
glimpses  of  the  majesty,  and  supremacy,  and  domin- 
ion, upon  which  He  now  entered. 

There  was  a  flash  of  that  supreme  exaltation  in 
the  presence  of  the  doctors,  when,  at  twelve  years  of 
age,  the  boy  in  their  midst  astonished  them  with  His 
questions  and  answers.  It  gleamed  forth  again  at 
Jordan  when,  at  His  bajjtism,  the  heavens  were 
opened,  and  the  Spirit,  in  the  form  of  a  dove,  de- 
scended and  rested  upon  Him.  It  flashed  and  flamed 
and  glowed  with  dazzling  brilliance,  when,  on  that 
moment  of  Transfiguration,  "His  face  shone  as  the 
sun,"  and  "His  raiment  was  white  as  the  light." 
The  mob,  on  that  last  night,  caught  a  glimpse  of  it 
and  fell  before  Him,  prostrate  and  hcl])k'ss,  until  He 
veiled  it  again,  and  surrendered  Himself  meekly  into 
their  hands,  "led  as  a  sheep  to  the  slaughter,"  and 


74 


THE  ASCENSION  OF  OUR  I^ORD. 


"as  a  lamb  dumb  before  her  shearers"  opening  "not 
His  mouth."  In  the  moment  of  dissolution,  when 
the  Author  of  Life  gave  up  His  spirit,  the  glory 
flashed  in  the  gloom  of  the  world's  universal  night, 
and  the  graves  were  opened,  and  the  rocks  rent,  and 
the  veil  of  the  temple  was  torn  in  twain,  and  the 
testimony  was  compelled  from  the  lips  of  an  enemj', 
"Truly  this  was  the  Son  of  God."  These  were 
glimpses  only,  along  that  lowly  and  that  humble 
life,  of  the  glory  from  which  the  wonderful  Son  of 
Mary  came,  and  back  to  which,  in  His  ascension,  He 
returned. 

When,  on  that  eventful  Sabbath  that  this  ques- 
tion of  the  text  was  put,  the  people  were  astonished 
at  His  wisdom,  and  impressed  with  the  manifesta- 
tions of  His  j)ower,  we  are  told  that  the}-  were 
offended  in  Him.  Because  He  was  "the  carpenter," 
thev  would  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  Him. 
With  wholly  different  emotions  we  stand  before  that 
still  more  thrilling  scene,  that  sublime  consumma- 
tion, as  the  clouds  receive  Him,  and  the  sky  opens 
its  door,  and,  in  wrapt  contemplation,  we  put  the 
(juestion  again  :    "Is  not  this  the  carpenter  .''" 

Lowliest  humiliation,  in  that  ascension  hour, 
culminates  in  highest  exaltation.  He  who  rises  to 
I  lis  throne,  conies  to  it  from  the  carpenter's  bench. 
He  sits  upon  the  one  because  He  toiled  at  the  other. 
"He  that  humbleth  himself  shall  be  exalted."  The 
glory  of  that  hour,  the  open  heavens,  the  angelic 
convoy,  the  clouds  His  choristers,  cast  the  halo  of 
their  grandeur  and  sublimit\'  around  that  humble. 


THE  ASCENSION  OF  OUR  LORD. 


75 


lowly  life,  and  it  is  "the  carpenter"  of  Nazareth 
whom  all  worlds  adore. 

In  that  event  so  wonderful,  as  the  path  to  the 
throne  lies  open,  all  those  conditions  in  life  that  we 
consider  favorable  are  put  in  a  subordinate  place, 
and  those  we  deem  adverse  and  hostile  are  uplifted 
in  this  sublime  exaltation.  The  ascension  of  our 
Lord  is  the  reversal  of  all  our  ways  of  looking  at 
things,  and  of  our  view  of  life,  and  its  highest,  best 
bestowal.  It  will  not  be  denied  that  Olivet,  with  its 
crowning  scene,  was  the  supreme  consummation  of 
human  life.  There  the  earthly  evolved  into  the 
heavenly  in  highest  apotheosis.  When  Jesus  "as- 
cended into  heaven,  and  sat  down  at  the  right  hand 
of  God  the  Father  Almighty,"  He  exalted  those  con- 
ditions of  life  He  had  chosen,  and  tho.se  surroundings 
He  had  selected,  to  the  supreme  plane,  and  the  first 
place.  In  their  ultimate  results,  therefore,  they  were 
the  conditions  that  were  most  to  be  desired,  and 
that  could  be  wrought  out,  in  character  and  life,  into 
the  highest  and  subliniest  sovereignty  of  soul.  And 
what  were  they?  The  answer  lies  in  this  question, 
put  so  many  years  ago,  "Is  not  this" — this  m.'in  so 
wonderful,  so  exalted,  so  unapproachable  in  His 
sublime  nature,  "Is  not  this  the  carpenter?" 

Our  first  and  most  familiar  distinction  in  society 
is  that  between  capital  and  labor.  Capital  is  en- 
vied, and  labor  is  desj)ised.  To  be  of  the  cajiitalistic 
chiss,  we  will  resort  to  an\'  degree  of  ingenuity,  and 
])ut  forth  any  amount  of  effort,  and  devote  cverv 
capacity  and  encrg}' and  activity  of  soul.     If  we  arc 


76 


THE  ASCENSION  OF  OUR  LORD. 


members  of  what  we  call  the  laboring  class,  we  deem 
it  a  misfortune  of  birth  or  of  surroundings,  and  live 
always  in  hopes  that  we  may  pass  out  of  it  into  the 
envied  estate  of  capitalistic  possession  and  control. 
There  is  a  degree  of  confusion  the  while  in  the  dis- 
tinction itself.  Some  of  the  hardest  workers  in  the 
world's  work  today  are  of  the  class  we  call  capital. 
The  eight  hour  system  is  with  them  more  often  ex- 
changed for  sixteen,  while  the  eight  allotted  to  rest 
and  sleep  are  sorely  disturbed.  On  the  other  hand, 
many  a  man  is  finding  genuine  rest  in  honest  labor 
and  worthy  toil,  of  whom  the  wisest  of  men  has 
said  that  "the  sleep  of  the  laboring  man  is  sweet." 
The  bulk  of  the  unhappiness  of  this  world  is  in 
brown  stone  fronts,  and  most  of  the  anxiety  is  in 
gilded  offices  and  costly  counting  rooms.  But  let 
that  pass.  These  are  the  two  classes:  the  one,  as  we 
theorize  about  it,  to  be  envied,  and  the  other,  to  be 
scorned,  capital  and  labor. 

He  who  ascended  from  Olivet,  He  who  was  "the 
carpenter,"  was  a  laboring  man;  He  never  owned  a 
dollar  of  capital.  Up  to  thirty  years  of  age,  Hishands 
were  calloused,  and  His  muscles  hardened,  and  His 
days  laborious.  He  was  enured  to  hard  work. 
Whenever  we  draw  this  distinction,  whenever  we 
envy  capital  and  despise  labor,  it  will  be  well  to  re- 
member that  the  ascending  Saviour,  mounting  to 
his  universal  throne,  was  not  a  capitalist ;  He  was  a 
laboring  man.  This  will  serve  to  keep  us  humble  if 
we  are  favored  with  this  world's  goods,  if  we  are  of 
the  class  the  world  calls  capital.    And  it  will  remind 


THE  ASCENSION  OF  OUR  LORD. 


77 


us  that  we  are  in  the  best  of  company,  our  compan- 
ionship is  the  most  exalted  because  it  is  divine,  if  we 
are  familiar  with  toil,  if  we  are,  as  the  world  pro- 
nounces its  judgment,  ot  the  laboring  class. 

Then  there  is  the  second  distinction  we  draw  so 
familiarly  between  riches  and  poverty — those  who 
have  their  good  things  in  this  life,  and  those  who 
have  not.  However  true  it  may  be,  and  however 
well  we  may  know  it  to  be  true  that  the  rich  are 
characteristically  unhappy  and  prevailingly 
wretched,  crippled  with  care  and  cankered  with 
anxiety,  and  the  poor  are  in  comparison  moderately 
happy  for  the  very  reason  that  they  have  so  few 
expectations,  still  we  envy  the  rich,  and  we  commis- 
erate the  poor.  As  between  Dives  on  his  divan  and 
Lazarus  at  his  gate,  we  would  take  our  part  with 
Dives,  and  leave  Lazarus  to  the  dogs.  Money  makes 
the  mare  go,  because  money  is  a  desirable  thing,  and 
we  don't  believe  we  can  have  too  much  of  it.  And 
yet  that  ascending  Saviour  never  had  enough  to  pay 
for  a  night's  lodging.  As  he  said,  He  had  "not 
where  to  lay  His  head."  He  had  no  way  to  pay  for 
it.  He  was  a  poor  man.  In  His  ascension.  He  ])ut 
the  crown  not  on  wealth  but  on  poverty ;  the  corona 
that  hour  was  not  upon  the  brow  of  the  rich,  but  of 
the  poor. 

The  distinction  that  we  draw  so  deeply  between 
the  educated  and  the  uneducated  met  with  a  singtdar 
reversal  on  that  ascension  dny.  In  the  technical  in- 
struction of  the  schools,  the  Nazarene  was  an  unedu- 
cated man.    When  the  crowd  were  confounded  with 


78 


THE  ASCENSION  OF  OUR  LORD. 


His  matchless  insight  into  truth,  His  universal 
knowledge  of  affairs,  they  put  the  question  that 
seemed  to  have  no  answer:  "Howknoweth  this  man 
letters,  having  never  learned?"  He  hadn't  been  to 
school  since  He  was  a  little  boy.  Yery  early  in  life 
He  had  to  work,  and  help  His  father  earn  a  living. 
Blessed  are  the  boys  and  girls  whose  parents  can 
send  them  forth  into  life  with  a  liberal  education. 
One  of  the  saddest  things  I  know  is  where  a  boy  or 
girl,  whose  parents  are  abundantly  able  to  furnish 
it,  scorns  a  good  education  and  does  not  want  to  go 
to  school.  It  is  a  life  long  encripplement,  and  so  a 
life  long  calamity.  The  Lincolns  and  the  Johnsons 
and  the  Oarhelds,  masterspirits  as  they  were,  would 
have  risen  to  mightier  master^'  still  had  they  had 
favorable  surroundings,  and  the  advantages  of 
school  and  college.  .  Rail  splitting  and  the  tailor's 
bench  and  the  tow  path  were  educators,  and  the3' 
drew  forth  matchless  qualities  of  manhood;  but 
they  could  have  been  improved  upon,  and  could  have 
well  given  jilace  to  the  languages  and  mathematics. 

But  the  ascending  Lord  on  Olivet  was  an  unedu- 
cated man.  He  knew  nothing  of  the  wisdom  of  the 
schools.  Fie  had  no  advantages.  His  youth  was 
si)ent  amidst  His  tools.  And  our  distinction  is  re- 
versed again.  The  crown  is  on  the  brow  of  depriva- 
tion of  highest  privilege.  Refinement  and  culture  are 
in  the  bnckground.  The  school  room  and  the  col- 
1cl;c  hall  ilo  not  enter  into  the  problem.  Rising  from 
that  mountain  top,  in  the  glory  of  the  clouds,  there 
passes  from  our  view  not  only  a  laboring  man,  a 


THE  ASCENSION  OF  OUR  LORD. 


79 


poor  man,  but  one  who  had  no  advantages  of  edu- 
cation, who  had  never  followed  the  curriculum  of  the 
schools. 

But  the  humiliation  that  culminated  in  su- 
supreme  exaltation  on  Olivet,  comprehended  still 
lower  depths.  That  ascending  Jesus,  amid  the 
clouds,  hcciven  open  to  greet  him,  the  Father  wait- 
ing to  receive  Him  at  flis  right  hand,  was  an  exconi- 
municHtcd  man.  Society  had  cast  him  out.  Juda- 
ism had  rejected  Him.  He  had  been  excluded  from 
the  synagogue.  He  was  turned  out  of  the  chnrch. 
Another  distinction,  and  a  very  wide  and  searching 
one,  is  reversed  in  that  ascension.  If  there  is  any- 
thing we  regard  as  desiraljle  in  life,  anything  that 
we  think  of  as  essential,  as  a  kind  of  sine  cpia  non, 
without  which  we  would  not  want  to  live,  it  is 
reputation,  a  good  name,  to  stand  well  with  society, 
and  if  we  are  Christian  men  and  momen,  to  be  recog- 
nized and  fcllowshipped  in  the  church. 

How  it  would  startle  us  to  awake  some  morn- 
ing, and  find  that  we  were  outlawed  from  societv, 
and  disfell()\vshi])])ed  from  some  chosen  fraternity, 
and  excluded  from  the  membership  of  the  church  ! 
That  society  would  not  recognize  us,  and  the  church 
would  not  have  our  name  on  its  roll !  Life  would  be 
a  burden,  and  we  would  not  know  which  way  to 
turn.  This  was  the  position  for  about  two  years  of 
that  ascending  Lord.  Had  you  mentioned  His  name 
to  any  regularly  constituted  Jew,  you  would  have 
learned  that  the  name  was  to  be  whispered  with 


80 


THE  ASCENSION  OF  OUR  LORD. 


withering  scorn,  because  the  name  of  an  excommun- 
icated man. 

Still  one  step  lower,  the  only  one  left  to  the  bot- 
tom, from  which  the  ascending  Son  of  Man  mounts 
that  day  to  the  top — He  was  an  executed  man.  We 
all  hope  to  stay  out  of  the  courts,  save  as  unim- 
peached  and  unimpeachable  witnesses,  or  those  who 
take  an  honorable  part  in  the  conduct  of  jndicial 
cases.  We  all  hope  that  no  grand  jur}'  will  ever 
have  occasion  to  investigate  us.  That  no  indict- 
ment will  ever  be  served  on  us.  No  trial,  certainly, 
ever  be  instituted.  No  sentence  pronounced.  No 
penalty  inflicted.  All  this  would  be  worse  than 
death.  Better  go  out  of  life,  than  live  a  convicted 
criminal,  or  bear  the  brand  of  the  sentence  of  the 
law  !  Just  this  He  endured  who  mounted  that  day 
to  His  throne.  He  was  indicted  ;  He  was  tried  ;  He 
was  convicted  ;  He  was  sentenced  ;  He  was  executed 
for  capital  crime.  No  depth  lower,  to  which  He 
could  descend.  And  from  it  he  rose  to  the  supernal 
heights.  From  a  convict's  doom  to  the  world's 
undisputed  dominion.  From  the  gibbet  so  infamous 
to  the  glory  so  ineffable. 

This  is  what  impresses  me  as  we  linger  around 
that  thrilling,  that  beatific  scene.  The  Son  of  God, 
our  Saviour,  ascends  that  day  amid  the  clouds,  and 
sits  down  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  whence  "He 
shall  come  to  judge  the  quick  and  the  dead" — He 
who  was  the  carpenter — a  lal)oring  man,  not  a  cap- 
italist;  a  poor  man,  not  well  to  do;  an  uneducated 
man,  not  a  scholar  though  He  "knew  letters"  so 


THE  ASCENSION  OF  OUR  LORD. 


81 


well,  "having  never  learned;"  an  excommuni- 
cated man,  turned  out  of  the  church;  an  exe- 
cuted man,  hung  on  the  Roman  gallows.  Could 
there  be  humiliation  more  galling,  an  emptying  of 
Himself  more  entire  and  complete,  a  depth  of  degra- 
dation lower  than  this,  to  which  by  any  possibility. 
He  could  step?  Indeed,  as  the  apostle  said,  "He 
made  Himself  of  no  reputation."  From  that  utter- 
est  humiliation,  laboring,  poor,  uneducated,  excom- 
municated, executed,  He  ascended  to  the  inaccessi- 
ble heights.  He  sat  down  "at  the  right  hand  of 
God."  He  put  at  the  key  of  the  arch  of  all  truth  its 
key  stone;  "He  that  humbletli  himself  shall  be  ex- 
alted." 

Capital  stands  for  control.  Riches  for  posses- 
sion. Knowledge  for  power.  Position  in  society 
and  the  church  for  honor.  Freedom  from  accusation 
for  innocence  in  the  judgment  of  the  world.  The 
ascending  Saviour  had  surrendered  them  all.  But, 
losing  them,  He  found  them.  Control  did  I  say? 
He  assumed  universal  dominion.  Possession  ?  He 
entered  upon  an  endless  inheritance.  Power?  He 
wielded  the  sceptre  of  resistless  authority.  Honor? 
He  had  all  praise  and  glory  in  all  worlds.  Inno- 
cence? He  w£is  spotlessly  pure,  "the  Holy  One  Who 
inhabiteth  eternity." 

And  so,  onthat  ascension  day.  He  ]jut  side  bv  side 
with  the  truth  that  "he  that  humbleth  himself  shall 
be  exalted,"  the  comjianion  truth  that  completes  the 
circle  of  supreme  revelation,  "He  that  loseth  his  life 
shall  save  it." 


82 


THE  ASCENSION  OF  OUR  LORD. 


That  scene  on  Olivet  embodies  the  deepest  reali- 
ties. The  last  event  in  that  life  on  earth,  it  was  the 
final  revelation  from  God.  As  the  Son  of  Man  passes 
through  that  rift  in  the  open  skies,  He  enacts  ulti- 
niiite  truth — His  lowliest  humiliation,  becoming,  in 
a  moment,  highest  exaltation,  defines  all  religion. 
Thrilled  with  the  wondrous  vision,  we  see  as  never 
in  all  that  life  before  what  it  is  to  be  a  christian ; 
we  learn  at  last  ho.w  the  humblest  disciple,  in  His 
humility,  mounts  to  His  waiting  mansion,  and  His 
kingdom,  and  His  throne. 


Evil,  The  Highest  Good. 


no  chastening  for  the  present  seemeth  to  be 

joyous,  but  grievous.— xii:  ii. 
Count  it  ai-l  joy  when   ye   fall  into  divers 

TEMPTATIONS.— yai.  /.•  2. 


E  HAVE,  in  these  verse.s,  the  human  and  the 
divine  side  of  one  common  truth.  We  must 
look  within  the  dark,  black  garb  of  the  one,  and  see 
the  angel  who  stands  thus  strangely  and  mysteriously 
clothed  in  the  other — the  angel  of  a  loving  purpose 
sent  on  holiest  mission  by  a  loving  God:  And  the 
counsel  of  James  is  given  with  reference  to  trial  in  its 
sorest,  grossest  form  ;  the  temptation  to  evil  and  to 
sin.  To  a  noble  nature  this  is  always  the  severest, 
the  most  overwhelming,  blow.  No  trial  came  to  our 
Master  so  painful,  none  so  severe,  in  all  that  life  of 
sorrows,  as  the  testing  time  in  the  wilderness,  be- 
cause it  was  a  period  of  temptation  to  sin.  Gethsem- 
ane  was  dark  and  heavy  with  the  anguish  of  a  bleed- 
ing soul,  bearing  the  woes  of  humanity.  Calvary  was 
densely  clouded  with  the  torture  of  a  dissolving  body, 
bearing  the  sins  of  the  world.  The  wilderness  of 
Judea  was  the  midnight  of  the  struggle  of  a  pure  na- 
ture with  the  suggestions  to  disobedience  and  sin. 


84 


EVIL,  THE  HIGHEST  GOOD. 


It  was  the  darkest  hour  in  all  that  shadowed  life  of 
Him  Who  was  "a  man  of  sorrows,  and  acquainted 
with  grief."  "Sensibility,"  says  Lacon,  "would  be  a 
good  portress,  if  she  had  but  one  hand.  With  her 
right,  she  opens  the  door  to  pleasure,  but  with  the 
left,  to  pain."  The  acutest  suffering  of  which  an  im- 
mortal nature  is  susceptible  inheres  in  its  sensibilit}^ 
to  sin,— its  perception  of  its  exceeding  sinfulness,  and 
of  the  pollution  of  the  soul  sin  touches.  This  was 
the  extreme  moment  in  the  career  of  the  Christ. 
This  is  the  critical,  the  decisive  hour  in  every  human 
soul.  At  that  moment  James  lifts  up  his  voice  and 
says:  "Count  it  all  joy" — "count  it  all  joy."  If  this 
be  so,  then  we  may  safely  apply  the  principle  to  life's 
sorrows  every  one.  If  the  sorest  and  the  saddest  of  • 
them  all  is  to  be  the  theme  of  rejoicing,  the  anthem 
of  delight,  then  we  can  take  the  whole  range  of  life's 
trials  in  our  hands,  and  sav  with  David  :  "It  is  good 
for  me  that  I  have  been  afflicted;"  it  is  a  grateful  and 
a  blessed  thing.  "Originally,"  says  Dr.  Hillis,  "the 
tortoise  and  the  eagle  stood  side  1)y  side,  but  one 
struggled  upward,  and  the  other  was  content  as  he 
was."  Tlie  tortoise  is  man  overwhelmed  Jind  cast 
down  by  affliction,  oppressed  by  Hfe's  sorrows,  bur- 
dened with  its  griefs,  moving  onward  with  slow  and 
hopeless  pace.  The  eagle  is  man  triumphant  in 
sorrow,  victorious  over  evil,  mounting  with  resist- 
less pinions,  soaring  to  the  stars. 

In  my  theology  to-day  this  docti'ine  lies  at 
the  base.  It  is  fundamental  to  the  belief  I  confi- 
dently entertain  in  a  kind  and   loving  God,  pos- 


EVIL,  THE  HIGHEST  GOOD. 


85 


sessed  of  sufficient  power  and  resources  to  pre- 
vent what  is  not  kind  and  loving  in  the  universe 
He  has  made,  and  in  the  lives  of  the  beings 
He  has  created.  At  the  starting  point,  in  the 
beginning,  the  choice  was  wholly  with  Him  whether 
or  not  evil  should  enter;  evil  in  .mv,  and  evil  in  all, 
its  conceivable  forms.  Evil,  therefoi'e,  as  sure  as  God 
is  kind  and  loving  and  able  to  manage  His  own  uni- 
verse, would  not  have  entei-ed  were  it  not,  in  His  tar- 
reaching  wisdom,  and  His  unerring  ])urpose,  an  ulti- 
mate, higher  good.  If  He  could  not,  as  the  apostle 
says  He  will,  raise  us  above  the  angels  who  know  no 
sin  because  we  have  known  sin,  its  struggles  and  its 
victories,  He  would  not  have  conferred  upf)n  Adam 
the  power  ot  choice  that  in\-olvc(l  the  jjossiljilit}'  of 
choosing  the  wrong  way.  I  .-un  inclined  to  think 
that  the  whole  experience  o(  human  sin,  and  life's 
resultant  trial  and  conllict,  occupies  the  Stiine  rela- 
tion, in  the  untolding  ot  the  infinite  purpose  in  all 
our  lives,  as  the  monster  war  occupies  u])on  the 
pages  oi'  history.  War  is  the  crowning  evil  oi'  the 
ages.  It  eml)races  evcrv  crime  and  e.xalts  it  into  vir- 
tue, cruelty,  (lece])tion,  lying,  hatred,  murder,  muti- 
lation, ])illage,  ])lunder — yes,  the  whole  catalogue  of 
crime,  with  e.Kcci)tions  sullicicnt  onU-  to  prove  tiie 
rule.  Tliere  is  nothing  iulumian,  nothing  base,  noth- 
ing diabolic,  that  is  not  included  in  the  term,  when 
we  say  war.  And  yet  that  very  thing,  the  compend 
of  all  iniquity,  the  congeries  of  all  cruelty,  is  the  great 
disinfectant,  the  perpetual  ])urifier,  ofthe  ages.  War, 
the  sum  of  all  iniquity,  has  been  the  agent  of  all 


86 


EVIL,  THE  HIGHEST  GOOD. 


progress,  the  herald  of  all  ennoblement,  the  security 
of  all  attainment,  in  the  advancement  of  the  nations, 
in  the  uplift  of  mankind.  The  wars  of  Canaan,  the  most 
merciless,  the  most  inhuman,  the  most  barbarous  of 
history,  were  the  plowshare  and  the  harrow  that  pre- 
pared fair  Palestine  for  her  mission  among  the  na- 
tions, and  fitted  that  sacred  soil  for  its  spiritual  har- 
vest for  mankind.  Alexander  the  Great,  carrying 
slaughter  and  destruction  into  Persia  and  India  and 
the  remotest  Orient,  carried  with  them  the  arts  and  the 
culture  of  Greece  in  her  peerless  prime.  The  phalanxes 
of  Cfesar,  sweeping  the  valleys  and  hillsides  of  His- 
pania  and  Gaul  and  far  off  Britain,  devastating  their 
fair  fields,  disseminated  the  seeds  of  regularity  and 
system  and  law  that  are  the  basis  and  the  super- 
structure of  the  juris])rudence  of  our  modern  time, 
the  gift  of  Roman  valor  and  Roman  arms  to  the 
civilization  of  our  later  day.  The  crusades,  bloody' 
and  relentless,  were  the  jiredecessors  of  the  Refor- 
mation, and  crowned  their  scenes  of  carnage  with  the 
standiird  of  the  cross.  The  wars  with  the  Indians, 
on  our  own  soil,  characterized  by  injustice  so  cruel, 
and  by  tricker}-  and  fraud  so  inhuman,  cleared  a  Con- 
tinent for  civilization,  and  exterminated  the  red  man 
who  wasted  its  vast  acres  that  the  wa\'  might  be 
opened  for  a  race  worthy  of  the  hidden  wealth  of  its 
mines,  and  the  boundless  fertilit}'  of  its  fields.  It 
was  the  survival  of  the  fittest,  on  a  continental  scale. 
Our  Revolutionary  war  made  us  a  nation  and  con- 
stituted us  a  free  peojile.  Our  civil  war  purged  us  of 
our  national  disgrace,  clarified  the  atmosphere  of 


EVIL,  THE  HIGHEST  GOOD.  87 

our  national  life,  and  put  an  end  forever  to  our 
crowning  crime.  The  war  with  Spain  has  dashed  to 
the  earth  the  yoke  of  most  cruel  bondage,  and  burst 
the  chains  of  the  most  merciless  inhumanity  ever 
placed  upon  the  shoulders  and  the  wrists  of  men. 
War,  the  culmination  of  humanity,  has  been  the 
fountain  of  blessing  to  mankind.  War,  the  sum  of 
iniquity,  has  been  the  disseminator  of  purity  and 
enlightenment  and  progress  and  peace. 

And  war,  in  the  realm  of  spirit,  occupies  the  same  po- 
sition, and  stands  in  the  same  relation.  Trial,  I  mean, 
in  all  its  forms,  this  great  conflict  of  soul.  It  is  a  ne- 
cessity in  the  inmost  nature  of  things,  in  the  plan  of 
God,  in  the  constitution  of  the  universe.  Not  a  battle 
would  have  been  fought  on  this  earth  of  ours,  if  bat- 
tle were  not  ultimately  a  blessing.  Not  a  trial  would 
have  been  borne  in  one  heart  of  ours,  if  trial  were  not 
unqualifiedly  a  boon.  That  is,  if  there  is  a  good 
God,  and  a  strongOne,  ruling  this  universe.  If  there 
is  One  who  loves;  and  One  who  can  exercise  His  love, 
without  limitation  or  restraint.  It  goes  without 
saying  that  if  there  is  some  power  in  this  universe 
mightier  than  God,  then,  however  good  He  is,  and 
however  loving,  all  our  reasoning  falls  to  the  ground, 
and  anything  may  happen  however  fatal,  however 
catacl^'smic.  But  so  long  as  we  can  say  that  He 
that  is  for  us  is  greater  than  they  that  be  against  us, 
we  can  say :  "Count  it  all  joy  when  ye  fall  into 
divers  temptations,"  meaning,  as  James  did,  tem])ta- 
tions  to  the  worst,  that  is,  tcmjjtations  to  all  evil, 
and,  last  and  lowest  of  all,  to  .sin. 


88 


EVIL,  THE  HIGHEST  GOOD. 


The  alabaster  box  poured  forth  its  fragrance, 
when  it  was  broken  at  our  Saviour's  feet.  The 
human  heart  sends  up  to  the  skies  its  aroma  of  hoh- 
est  devotion,  when  it  can  be  said  : 

"A  broken  and  emptied  vessel 

For  the  Master's  use  made  meet  ; 
Emptied  that  He  may  fill  me 
As  forth  to  His  service  I  go  : 
•  Broken,  that  so  unhindered 

His  grace  through  me  might  flow." 

The  thoughts  that  are  now  upon  our  minds  are 
fraught  with  practical  issues  that  are  alike  immedi- 
ate and  vital  in  every  human  life.  We  are  seldom  ex- 
empt from  trial  in  some  form  that  seems  severe  and 
hard  to  us,  and  that,  therefore,  involves  the  ever 
present  m^'stery.  Why,  if  there  is  a  good  God  in  this 
universe,  and  a  powerful  God,  One  who  is  willing  and 
One  who  is  able  to  order  otherwise,  why  it  should  be 
so.  Some  of  us  who  seem  to  have  the  least  and  the 
fewest  sorrows  in  life  have  the  severest  and  themost. 
Some  of  our  hearts  that  seem  happiest  are  most 
broken  with  great  grief 

We  owe  some  of  these  burdens,  that  seem  per- 
haps heavier  than  we  can  bear,  to  heredity.  They 
have  come  down  to  us  from  our  fathers  and  mothers. 
They  are  a  terrible  and  a  tyrannous  inheritance  from 
a  dark  past.  Others  are  the  product  of  our  mis- 
takes— mistakes  it  is  impossible  now  to  correct,  for 
which  there  is  no  room  for  repentance,  though  we 
seek  it  carefully  and  with  tears.  Many  of  our  trials 
are  the  direct  consequences  of  our  sins.  Because  we 
have  done  wrong,  we  suffer.    The  nails  ma}'  be  ex- 


EVIL,  THE  HIGHEST  GOOD.  89 

tracted  from  the  board  of  life's  transgressions,  but 
the  holes  remain.  Then  we  suffer  many  of  the  hard- 
est blows,  and  carry  many  of  the  heaviest  weights 
in  life,  on  account  of  our  environment.  Because  we 
are  hedged  in  by  the  customs  of  society,  by  the  injus- 
tices of  popular  opinion,  by  circumstances  wholly 
beyond  our  control.  Whether  from  one  or  all 
these  causes,  our  trials,  thus  necessitated  and  com- 
ing in  upon  us  sometimes  like  a  flood,  when  "the 
waves  and  the  billows  are  gone  over  our  head," seem 
to, us  a  sad  and  a  terrible  and  a  revolting  thing.  As 
the  author  of  Hebrews  said:  "No  trial  for  the  pres- 
ent seemeth  to  be  joyous,  but  grievous."  That  is 
the  fact  of  human  life.  As  universal  as  man.  As 
age,  long  as  the  centuries.  Put  over  against  that 
fact,  therefore,  as  the  supreme  lesson  of  our  theme, 
that  what  seems  to  us  so  horrible,  and  so  revolting, 
is  a  blessed  and  a  beatific  thing.  Whether  by  hered- 
ity, or  along  the  pathway  of  our  mistakes  or  our 
sins,  or  within  the  adamantine  walls  of  inevitable 
environment,  we  have  come  into  our  experience  of 
trial  or  calamity,  of  suffering  or  sorrow,  of  agonv  or 
distress,  "Count  it  all  joy,"  "Count  it  all  joy."  It  is 
infinitely  better,  or  it  would  not  be  so. 

And  I  think  the  strongest  conceivable  proof  of  this 
proposition  is  to  be  found  in  the  two  concrete  cases  so 
prominentin  Scripture.  The3'are  thecontrasted ca.ses 
of  Abraham  and  Solomon.  They  present  the  two  sides 
of  this  question.  In  the  life  of  the  one,  trial  wrought 
its  perfect  work.  In  the  life  of  the  other,  the  absence 
of  trial  developed  its  indescribable  bane.  Abraham 


90 


EVIL,  THE  HIGHEST  GOOD. 


was  Specifically  called  of  God  to  endure  a  trial  that 
had  no  possible  end  in  view,  but  the  effect  upon  his 
own  nature.  A  conscientious  Christian  man  over  in 
Connecticut  a  few  years  ago  passed  through  the 
same  experience,  believed  that  God  commanded  him 
to  put  his  child  to  death,  and  society  and  human  law 
said  he  must  be  proved  insane  or  die  on  the  gallows. 
Abraham,  if  he  had  carried  out  his  purpose,  would 
have  been  sent  to  an  asylum,  or  he  would  have  been 
electrocuted,  in  this  ^ear  1899.  God  commanded 
him  to  offer  up  Isaac,  his  only  son  Isaac,  on  one  of 
the  mountains  that  He  should  tell  him  of.  Abraham, 
familiar  with  the  system  of  human  sacrifices  so  gen- 
eral in  his  day,  did  not  think  to  comply  with  the 
divine  command  by  presenting  his  son  Isaac  on 
Mt.  Moriah  whollv  and  forever  to  God,  hy 
some  spiritual  rite,  but,  in  his  ignorance  and  the 
barbarism  of  his  time,  Abraham  thought  that 
the  only  way  to  give  Isaac  was  to  kill  him.  It 
was  the  sorest,  heaviest  trial  that  could  possibly 
be  sent  into  his  life.  And  it  was  sent  for  no  other 
purpose  and  for  no  other  end,  but  for  its  effect  upon 
himself,  for  what  it  would  do  for  him.  God  tested 
Abraham.  Abraham  measured  up  to  the  test.  He 
gave  his  son.  He  slew  him,  in  the  inmost  purpose 
and  intent  of  that  terrific  hour,  when  that  knife  was 
lifted,  and  would  have  fallen,  had  not  God  held  it 
back.  And  that  trial  made  Abraham.  It  placed 
him  on  the  double  based  pinnacle,  where  no  other 
child  of  man  ever  stood— "the  father  of  the  faithful," 
"the  friend  of  God."    Of  all  the  tried  and  true,  that 


EVIL,  THE  HIGHEST  GOOD.  91 

man  on  Moriah  is  the  father.  Of  only  that  man  on 
Moriah  has  it  been  said  that,  in  his  familiarity  and 
intimate  converse,  he  was  "the  friend  of  God."  We 
are  reading  the  most  wonderful  page  in  the  biogra- 
phy of  the  ages.  It  is  a  page  written  in  the  blood 
red  colors  of  sorest  anguish,  iritensest  grief,  bitterest 
tears.  Abraham  looks  back,  and  will  forever,  to 
that  mountain,  and  "counts  it  all  joy." 

Then  just  as  vividly,  in  just  as  distinct  and  clear 
cut  colors,  we  may  see  the  other  side.  We  have  before 
us,  now,  one  of  the  noblest,  best  natures,  in  youth  atid 
rising  manhood,  the  world  ever  saw.  So  peerless  in 
his  qualities,  so  matchless  in  his  wisdom,  so  pure  and 
guileless  in  his  s])irit,  that  when  God  offered  him 
whatever  he  might  ask,  he  did  not  think  ol  wealth, 
or  fjime,  or  pleasure,  or  the  life  of  his  enemies,  but 
only  of  wisdom,  and  an  understanding  heart.  That 
was  his  character  at  twenty-one.  From  that  day 
forth  he  had  everything.  He  had  the  wisdom  and 
the  discerning  judgment  for  which  alone  he  prayed, 
and  he  had  unbounded  ]iros])erity,  exhaustless 
wealth,  limitless  pleasure,  not  a  sorrow,  nor  a  heart 
ache,  nor  a  care,  and  what  was  the  result  at  fifty- 
six?  A  ruined  man,  a  wreck  of  what  he  was  thirty- 
five  years  before,  a  sceptic,  a  profligate,  a  roue. 
These  are  the  two  pictures.  Put  them  side  by  side. 
And,  oh,  "count  it  all  joy  when  ye  fall  into  divers 
temptations."  If  there  is  any  gold  in  the  lump  of 
our  natures,  God  will  put  it  in  the  furnace,  and  by 
fierce  fires  call  it  forth.  If  we  have  no  trial,  it  is 
because  there  isn't  any  gold.    But  who,  who  has  no 


92  EVIL,  THE  HIGHEST  GOOD. 

trial  ?  Where  is  the  man  or  the  woman  or  the  child 
in  this  presence  to-da}'  that  is  not  tried?  The  world 
may  think  you  have  everything  \'our  own  waj',  as 
absolutely  as  Solomon.  But  what  a  blessed  thing  it 
is  that  it  is  not  so,  for  then  Solomon's  doom  at  fifty- 
six  might  be  yours.  "Ever\'  heart  knoweth  its  own 
bitterness."  Every  house  has  its  own  skeleton.  Ever}' 
soul  sees  its  own  sorrow.  And  out  of  it  comes 
blessedness,  perfection,  peace. 

If  this  be  so,  submission  is  a  very  sweet,  and  a 
very  natural  thing.  Not  the  submission  of  the  stoic 
who  defiantly  says  to  the  waves  and  billows,  "Come 
on."  But  the  submissiveness  of  love,  that  sees  at  a 
glance  that  it  must  be  better  so.  Trustfulness  fla- 
vors the  bitterest  cup.  Trust  in  the  wisdom  that 
fills  that  cup,  trust  in  the  love  that  puts  it  to  our 
lips.  Triumjih  is  written  over  every  trial,  while 
the  trial  lasts.  Not  only  when  it  is  over,  but  while, 
in  all  its  weight  and  heaviness,  it  is  now  at  hand. 
And  this  is  the  supreme  victor}'.  This  is  the  Hima- 
lavan  height.  This  is  our  Moriah.  The  hand  of 
faith  is  lifted  on  high  though  it  holds  the  gleaming 
knife,  and  though  our  Isaac  lies  before.  On  that 
loftiest  height  the  final  word  is  true,  that  this  race 
oi  ours  that  suffers  and  is  tried  is  raised  above  the 
angels  who  never  knew  a  sorrow  and  never  felt  a 
care.  God  was  not  taken  by  surprise  in  Eden.  A 
universe  will  acknowledge  that  in  Paradise. 


0    The  Holy  Spirit.  ^ 


These  Men  Are  Full  of  New  WiNE—Ach  II:  13. 


HT  THE  time  these  words  were  spoken  there 
occurred  in  the  streets  of  Jerusalem  the  most 
inexplicable  and  the  most  exciting  scene  of  which, 
perhaps,  those  famous  streets  had  ever  been  witness. 
There  had  just  poured  forth  from  one  of  its  upper 
rooms  a  company  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  men 
and  women,  strangely  filled  with  some  m^'sterious 
power,  and  endowed  with  marvelous  skill  in  giving 
expression  to  their  ecstatic  thought.  Whatever  the 
dialect  of  an}'  of  the  multitude  just  then  thronging 
the  city  may  happen  to  be,  from  whatever  land  he 
may  have  come,  and  however  strange  his  speech, 
some  one  of  these  one  hundred  and  twenty  can  talk 
to  him.,  and  tell  him,  in  his  "own  tongue  wherein 
he  was  born,"  "the  wonderful  works  of  God."  As 
these  s])eakers  are  dilating  in  so  many  tongues, 
what  they  have  to  say  seems  only  jargon  to  all  their 
listeners,  save  the  few  of  the  particular  dialect  in  which 
they  are  addressed.  It  is  as  though  one  hundred  and 
twenty  men  and  women  were  standing  on  the  cor- 
ners of  our  streets  this  Sunday  morning  and  speak- 
ing, in  as  many  languages  as  there  were  voices,  in 
animated  and  excited  discourse.    If  one  man  was 


94 


THE  HOLY  SPIRIT. 


silenced  so  summarily,  a  few  weeks  ago,  what  quick 
disposition  would  be  made  were  he  multiplied  by 
one  hundred  and  twenty !  Jerusalem  was  in  tumult. 
Nobody  could  understand  the  strange  phenomenon. 
No  philosopher  could  give  an  explanation.  And  the 
only  theory  that  is  placed  on  record  is  that  of  the 
text:  "These  men  are  full  of  new  wine."  The^"^  are 
stupidly  drunk.  This  medley  of  voices  on  the  streets 
of  Jerusalem  is  the  maudlin  muttering  of  gross  in- 
toxication. 

One  of  the  speakers,  in  a  language  they  under- 
stand, at  once  denies  the  charge.  He  gives  two  rea- 
sons for  the  denial.  The  first  ot  them  had  more  force 
in  his  day  than  in  ours.  It  was  only  nine  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  Men  did  not,  in  those  days,  get 
drunk  so  early  as  that.  But  the  second  reason  of 
the  repudiation  of  the  charge  goes  to  the  core  of  the 
subject,  and  gives  the  key  to  the  whole  mj^'stery. 
That  scene  of  excitement,  so  unprecedented  and  so 
intense,  has  its  explanation.  It  has  been  planned 
long  before  in  the  purpose  of  the  Father,  and  fore- 
told expressly,  so  that  it  is  described  as  His  peculiar 
and  prophetic  promise — "the  promise  of  the  Father." 
These  men  are  filled,  not  with  new  wine,  as  they 
have  charged,  but  with  the  Holy  Spirit  whom  God  is 
now  about  to  "pour  upon  all  flesh."  They  are  not 
drunk,  put  Spirit-filled.  It  is  not  an  attack  of  intoxi- 
cation, but  the  might  of  the  Infinite,  that  rests  upon 
them,  and  clothes  them  with  mystic  power,  and  gives 
them  wondrous  facility  of  speech. 

Because  this  is  so,  the  resultsthatday  are  as  mar- 


THE  HOLY  SPIRIT. 


95 


velous  as  the  manner  of  the  men.  That  Spirit  in 
His  power  moves  not  only  upon  the  speakers  so 
matchlessly  endowed,  but  upon  the  throng  who  lis- 
tened and,  before  the  night  has  fallen,  the  numbtr  of 
believers  is  multiplied  into  thousands,  and  em- 
braces those  of  ever}'  nationality  and  of  every 
tongue.  Never  such  a  day  dawned  on  Jerusalem. 
Never  a  night,  after  such  a  day,  gathered  over  that 
city.  Three  thousand  more  believers  when  that  sun 
went  down  than  when  that  day  began!  A  fire  kin- 
dled that  should  flame  forth  from  that  city  and 
some  day,  with  heaven's  light  and  life  and  love, 
ignite  the  world!  Pentecost!  How  it  almost  seems 
to  sound  of  the  majestj^  and  the  might  and  the  re- 
sistlessness  of  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord!  Good  Friday, 
the  world's  midnight.  Pentecost,  its  everlasting 
dawn. 

The  Person  who  wrought  so  wondrously  that 
day,  is  that  Person  of  the  Deity  who  applies  to  all 
believers  the  resources  of  the  Infinite,  who  imparts 
God  to  man.  God  the  Father  gives  Himself;  God 
the  Son  embodies  the  gift ;  God  the  Spirit  applies  the 
gift  to  all  souls.  He  who  "brooded  over  the  wa- 
ters" when  the  world  was  made,  has  been  brooding 
ever  since,  calling  forth  all  that  is  highest  and  nob- 
lest and  best  in  humanity— the  life-giving  force  in  the 
eternal  moral  creation  of  God. 

Let  me  read  you  a  parable  that  I  discovered  in 
some  periodical  not  long  ago. 

A  Great  Sculptor  made  a  l)e,-iiil il'ul  Image  in  clav. 
And  when  it  was  finished.  Necessity  pressed  upon  it 


96 


THE  HOLY  SPIRIT. 


and  Toil  bent  it  down.  Famine  pinched  it  and  Tyr- 
ann}'  hammered  it  and  Monopoly  cast  it  out  from 
the  ])laoe  which  the  Sculptor  had  ordained. 

It  lay  in  the  kennel,  rejected  and  unclean.  Theol- 
ogy passed  by  on  the  other  side  and  said,  "See  how 
depraved  it  is,— it  is  fit  only  to  be  cast  into  the  fire." 

But  Love  lifted  the  figure  up  and  wept  over  it; 
and,  as  her  tears  fell  upon  the  cla}-,  it  softened  in  her 
arms,  so  that  she  smoothed  out  the  bruises  with  her 
hands. 

Then  Justice  set  it  again  in  its  place  and  men 
said,  "Behold,  it  was  made  in  the  image  of  God  !" 

Put  for  "Justice,"  in  this  parable,  God  the  Holy 
Spirit,  and  you  have  the  office  and  the  work  of  Him 
who,  at  Pentecost,  came  with  "the  sound  as  of  a 
rushing  mighty  wind"  and  rested  as  "with  cloven 
tongues  of  fire"  iipon  each  of  the  disciples.  Everv 
pure  thought,  every  right  desire,  every  noble  asjiira- 
tion,  every  ardent  breathing  of  a  human  soul  after 
God,  is  the  implantation  of  the  divine  Spirit.  Each 
is  the  product  of  His  influence.  Each  alike  is  the 
resultant  of  His  presence,  and  the  fruitage  of  His 
power. 

The  "dispensation  of  the  Spirit"  is  as  eternal  as 
Himself.  Before  time  began,  while  immortalitA'  shall 
last,  that  Spirit  is  ever  at  work  upon  the  hearts  and 
minds  of  men,  actuating  all  that  is  good,  antago- 
nizing all  that  is  evil.  It  is  the  eternal  now,  in  which 
God  moves  upon  the  thoughts  and  inspires  the  ac- 
tivities, and  uplifts  the  souls  of  men — God,  by  His 
Spirit,  in  ever  present  contact  with  humanity.  The 
Holy  Spirit's  dispensation  began  when  man  was 
made,  and  continues  while  man  shall  exist,  in  any 


THE  HOLY  SPIRIT. 


97 


world,  in  any  age.  Only  eternity  can  circumscribe 
God.  All  the  ages  are  tli» arena  of  His  ever  present 
Spirit.  He  who  dwells  in  us,  to  incite  to  a.ll  that  is 
good,  to  turn  from  all  that  is  evil,  has  been  doing 
the  same  thing  since  Adam  and  Eve  repented  of 
Eden's  sin,  and  did  what  they  could  to  repair  the 
wreck  they  had  together  made  of  humanity.  The 
same  Spirit  who  inspired  that  pure  thought  or  pur- 
pose that  came  to  you  or  me  just  now,  perhaps,  as 
though  out  of  the  infinite  spaces,  inspired  that  walk 
which  Enoch  took  with  God  more  than  four  thou- 
sand years  ago.  He  put  into  the  bosom  of  Abraham 
that  resistless  faith.  He  created  that  magnificent 
specimen  of  manhood  that  was  Egypt's  pride  and 
Pharaoh's  delight.  He  equipped  the  immortal  leader 
of  Israel  for  his  great  life  work.  He  was  stirring  the 
hearts  of  the  people  when  they  brought  their  offei"- 
ings  so  generously,  and  so  enthusiastically,  in  the 
wilderness,  that  Moses  had  to  beseech  them  to  re- 
frain from  giving.  He  filled  with  His  presence  the 
heroes  of  that  far  ofi  time,  whose  names  are  held  in 
highest  honor  as  the  author  of  Hebrews  calls  the 
roll:  "What  shall  I  more  .say?  for  the  time  will  fail 
me  if  I  tell  of  Gideon  and  Barak  and  Samson  and  of 
Jephthah;  of  David  and  Samuel  and  the  prophets." 
That  mysterious  character  among  them,  the  giant 
of  the  flowing  locks,  comes  down  to  us  with  an  ex- 
planation of  the  nn^stery  of  his  wondrous  strength 
in  the  statement  of  the  inspired  histoi-ian,  that,  when 
those  deeds  so  marvelous  were  wrought  by  his 
hands,  "the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  came  mightily  upon 


98 


THE  HOLY  SPIRIT. 


him."  It  was  the  power  of  that  Spirit  that  clothed 
the  weak  and  sensual  and  selfish  Samson,  and  made 
him  an  avenger  against  Israel,  and  an  instrument  of 
the  overwhelming  judgments  of  the  Lord.  His  hair 
was  the  symbol  and  the  seal  of  the  Spirit's  power, 
and  when  that  was  gone  the  Spirit  was  gone,  and  he 
was  a  helpless  child  in  the  hands  of  his  enemies,  and 
the  giant  of  Zorah  was  divested  of  his  strength. 

In  that  long  period  of  national  decline  and  exile, 
save  in  the  message  of  the  prophets,  and  their  warn- 
ing voice,  few  hearts  were  open  to  the  influence  of 
the  Spirit,  and  His  presence  was  almost  a  thing  un- 
known. When  the  captives  return  and  the  walls  of 
the  ruined  city  are  rebuilt,  then  His  presence  is  mani- 
fest once  more,  and  all  the  people  have  a  mind  to 
work.  The  Spirit  was  the  Creator  of  that  willing 
mind,  the  Maker  of  those  glowing,  earnest  hearts. 
Another  long  night  intervened  between  the  last  of 
the  Old  Testament  prophets,  and  the  coming  of  the 
messenger  of  the  Lord.  It  was  the  night  again, 
becaiise  so  few  hearts  were  open,  and  so  few  lives 
receptive  of  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord.  When  John  the 
Baptist  lifted  up  his  voice  on  Jordan'g  banks,  the 
word  of  the  angel  of  the  Lord  foretelling  his  birth 
found  fulfillment :  "He  shall  be  filled  with  the  Holy 
Spirit,  even  from  his  mother's  womb."  When  our 
divine  Master  enters  upon  his  mission,  and  assumes 
His  life  work,  the  Spirit,  in  the  form  of  a  dove,  de- 
scends and  rests  upon  Him.  His  human  nature 
opens  to  the  full  and  complete  possession. 

At  this  point,  a  strange  and  inexplicable  circum- 


THE  HOLY  SPIRIT. 


99 


stance  occurs.  During  the  earthly  life  of  Jesus,  when 
the  Spirit  was  dwelling  in  Him,  that  Spirit  seems  to 
have  been  limited,  in  a  degree,  by  that  bodily  pres- 
ence of  the  Master.  Not  only  was  that  Master  con- 
fined bv  the  flesh,  but  the  Spirit  also  seemed  to  sub- 
mit to  the  same  limitation,  and  there  were  few  exhi- 
bitions, during  those  three  years,  save  within  the 
boundaries  of  that  wonderful  life  and  its  immediate 
reach,  of  the  presence  and  power  of  the  Spirit.  The 
Master  expressly  says  to  His  disciples,  who,  it  any  of 
the  sons  of  men,  should  have  enjoyed  the  Spirit's 
power,  in  such  immediate  contact  and  converse  with 
their  Lord  :  "It  is  expedient  for  you  that  I  go  away: 
for  if  I  go  not  away,  the  Comforter  will  not  come 
untovou;  but  if  I  go,  I  will  send  him  unto  3'ou." 
The  presence  of  the  Spirit  was  thus  conditioned  abso- 
lutely upon  the  bodily  departure  and  absence  of  our 
Lord.  It  looks  as  though,  while  the  Master  was  in 
the  flesh,  the  Spirit,  as  I  have  just  said,  shared  his 
physical  limitations,  and  was  confined  to  the  mate- 
rial presence.  In  harmony  with  this  theor}-,  the 
especial  promise  of  the  Master  upon  His  departure, 
is  the  return  of  His  Spirit,  the  presence  of  the  Com- 
forter, the  might  and  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  This 
is  the  promise  of  the  Father  that  He  makes  so  em- 
phatic, and  that  He  extends  to  that  immediate  cir- 
cle of  His  disciples,  in  the  midnight  of  their  despair, 
to  be  the  sunshine  of  their  hope.  That  promise  was 
fulfilled  when  the  sound  "as  of  a  rushing  mighty 
wind"  was  heard,  and  when  the  "cloven  tongues  as 
of  fire  sat  upon  each  of  them."    The  breath  of  the 


100 


THE  HOLY  SPIRIT. 


Almijrhtv  was  wafted  earthward.  All  tongues  were 
loosed,  tliat  every  soul  might  speak  and  hear  the 
wonderful  works  of  God. 

And  so  that  day  of  Pentecost  has  never  ceased  ; 
its  sun  has  never  set.  From  that  hour  until  this, 
and  on  unto  the  consummation  of  the  age,  the  word 
of  the  Master  finds  fulfillment,  and  the  Spirit  has 
come  who  shall  abide  with  us  for  ever.  His  mission, 
upon  which  He  has  entered,  is  outlined  in  those  last 
words  of  Jesus,  as  He  was  so  soon  to  go  awa}'. 
When  our  minds  are  open,  and  our  natures  receptive. 
He,  as  the  Master  .said,  "teaches  us  all  things;  leads 
us  into  all  truth  ;  brings  all  things  to  our  remem- 
brance, whatsoever  he  has  said  unto  us."  This  is 
the  work  of  the  Spirit  of  God  down  through  the 
ages.  Pentecost  was  its  concentration,  in  mightiest 
symbolism.  Pentecost,  with  its  "rushing,  mighty 
wind"  and  with  its  "cloven  tongues  of  fire,"  pictured 
on  the  canvass  of  a  day  the  reality  of  all  time.  This 
breath  of  the  Almighty  is  the  atmosphere  in  which 
all  pure  thoughts  are  conceived,  all  noble  purposes 
inborn,  all  worthy  deeds  committed.  The  cloven 
tongues  are  the  final  answer  to  that  prayer  of  the 
psalmist,  "Lord,  open  thou  my  lips,  and  my  mouth 
shall  shew  forth  thy  praise."  It  was  a  great  day  in 
Jeru.saleni,  because  so  many  hearts  and  minds  were 
open  to  the  incom.ing  of  the  Lord. 

The  results  of  everv  day  are  hinged  upon  this 
alone  condition.  To  what  degree  are  we  open  to  the 
inflow  and  the  indwelling  of  the  Spirit  of  God  In 
the  presence  of  that  question,  Pentecost  ma}-  be  as 


THE  HOLY  SPIRIT. 


101 


permanent  as  we  please,  and  the  wind  may  blow 
with  infinite  blessing,  and  the  tongues  be  loosed  to 
tell  the  old,  old  story  with  a  pathosthat  is  ever  new, 
and  a  power  that  is  puissant  with  the  might  of  the 
Most  High.  Just  here  the  secrets  of  all  spiritual 
experience  lie  open.  Here  is  the  celestial  rule  of  three. 
As  is  the  presence  of  the  Spirit  Who  came  on  Pente- 
cost to  the  degree  of  openness  of  a  hu mail  soul,  so 
are  the  anticipations  of  blessing  to  the  results  that 
are  wrought  by  the  mighty  ])ower  of  God.  You 
may  have  two  needles  in  yonr  hand,  in  a])pear- 
ance  and  size  alike.  And  yet  one  of  those  needles 
may  be  a  magnet  that  draws  the  particles  of  iron 
irresistibly  to  itself.  The  other  niav  ])ossess  no  mag- 
netism. One  of  them  has  been  charged.  Two  men 
or  two  women,  so  far  as  the  world  can  sec,  arc  of 
equal  qualifications,  of  equal  ca])acities,  of  identical 
powers.  The  one  draws,  with  the  resistless  ])ower 
of  love,  all  hearts  to  God.  The  other  has  no  mag- 
netism. The  one  has  been  charged.  That  soul 
opened,  in  some  glad  hour,  to  the  approaching 
Spirit,  and  the  electric  force  was  given,  and  a  new 
life  was  begun. 

You  know  the  Mohammedans  believe  that  the 
prophet  of  Mecca  was  the  Holy  Ghost.  In  his  per- 
son the  promise  of  the  Comforter  found  fulfillment. 
That  sounds  very  much  like  blasphemy,  like  the  sin 
against  the  Holy  Ghost  for  which  "there  is  no  for- 
giveness." I  wonder  if  that  is  the  reason  of  thecurse 
that  rests  upon  Mohammedanism,  the  blight  that 
descends  as  a  pall  upon  the  nations  wherever  the 


102 


THE  HOLY  SPIRIT. 


crescent  may  go.  But  there  is  a  truth  back  of  the 
error,  though  the  error  be  so  gross  and  so  revolting. 
The  revivalist,  Gardiner,  used  to  speak  of  those  who 
were  filled  with  enthusiasm  and  zeal  in  Christian 
work  as  Holy  Ghost  men  and  Holy  Ghost 
women.  The  language  was  coarse,  but  the  idea  was 
scriptural.  "Full  of  the  Holy  Ghost"  is  a  Bible 
phrase.  It  suggests  the  supreme  height  to  which 
humanity  aspires.  Jesus  stood  on  the  summit,  and 
so  it  could  be  said  of  Him,  as  of  no  other  man,  that 
He  was  "full  of  the  Holy  Spirit."  John  the  Baptist 
climbed  nearest  Him,  and  so  it  was  said  that  he  was 
greater  because  higher  up  than  all  that  were  ever 
bom  of  women.  The  one  hundred  and  twenty  were 
full  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  what  a  day  that  was! 

My  dear  friends,  I  would  that  3'ou  and  1  might 
be  so  open  to  the  Spirit  of  God,  so  moved  upon  by 
His  resistless  power,  that  the  old  charge  against  the 
disciples  might  be  revived  and  that  the  world  might 
think  that  we  were  drunk.  I  do  not  think  there  is 
any  danger.  I  would  there  were.  And  then  I  would 
that  some  angel  voice,  like  Peter's  of  old,  might  say : 
"  'Men  and  brethren  these  are  not  drunken  as  ye  sup- 
pose!' but  the  Holy  Spirit  rests  upon  them,  and  they 
are  full  of  love  and  life  and  light.  They  have  tasted 
the  new  wine  of  the  kingdom.  A  new  day  has 
dawned.  A  new  era  has  struck."  All  hail  the  bea- 
tific intoxication ! 


Praying,  and  /Waking 

Prayers. 

«^  «^ 

And  make  prayers. — Luke  V,  jj. 

RAYING  and  making  a  prayer  are  two  ver^^ 
different  things.  Making  a  prayer  is  machin- 
ery. Prayingislayinghold  on(iod.  They  who  make 
prayers  are  on  the  edges.  They  who  pray  are  in  the 
inner  courts,  and  stand  within  the  holy  of  holies. 
The  two  things,  therefore,  suggest  at  once  the  two 
great  types  of  religion— that  which  is  on  the  out.side 
and  that  which  is  within;  that  which  floats  like 
waves  upon  the  surface  and  that  which  moves  like 
the  deep  gulf  stream  far  down  beneath.  Before  the 
establishment  of  our  National  banking  system,  when 
bills  were  issued  by  the  corporations  authorized  by 
State  laws,  every  merchant  was  supplied  with  a 
pamphlet  describing  the  appearance  of  the  coun- 
terfeit issues,  and  suggesting  the  method  of  their  de- 
tection. The  ingenuity  of  the  counterfeiter  was  so 
great,  and  the  field  of  his  manipulations  so  vast, 
under  that  system,  that  every  man  must  be  a  student 
along  that  j^articular  line,  and  each  mercantile  house 


104 


PRAYING,  AND  MAKING  PRAYERS. 


a  kind  of  committee  of  investigation.  There  was  so 
much  of  the  counterfeit  jx-issing  from  hand  to  hand  as 
well  as  the  genuine  issue  of  responsible  and  reliable 
banks.  So,  it  seems  to  me,  is  the  need  in  the  circula- 
tion of  the  currency  of  the  kingdom  in  these  times  of 
ours.  There  is  so  much  of  the  counterfeit  passing 
around,  mixed  with  the  genuine  coin  of  the  realm. 
No  National  banking  system,  issuing  one  kind  of  in- 
corruptible currenc}',  has  yet  been  established  in  the 
realm  of  morals.  From  irresponsible  sources  so 
much  is  floated  on  the  ethical  market  that  every 
christian  must  needs  resolve  himself  into  an  examin- 
ing committee  of  one,  and  will  require  special  qualifi- 
cations and  constant  liclps  to  a  skillful  and  wise  de- 
tection. It  is  to  this  necessity  that  the  Master  points, 
when  He  says :  "  By  their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them." 

We  have,  then,  as  suggested  by  this  phrase  of  our 
text,  the  two  types  of  religion — the  counterfeit  and 
the  genuine  coin — the  artificial  and  the  real.  We  have 
been  reading  a  great  deal  about  "realism  in  ro- 
mance." The  object  of  Churches  and  Y.  M.  C. 
As.  and  W.  C.  T.  Us.  and  Y.  P.  S.  C.  Es.,  of  all  vol- 
untary organizations  of  christian  effort  alike^  is  to 
discover,  and  bring  into  active  operation,  realism  in 
religion.  A  Pilate  and  a  David  wash  their  hands  in 
proferred  innocency.  A  publican  and  a  Pharisee  alike 
go  up,  with  devout  demeanor,  to  the  house  of  God. 
Satan  quotes  scripture  as  readily  as  the  saints.  An 
Anna  and  a  Jezebel  both  keep  fasts.  Devils  believe  as 
confidently  as  the  humblest  disciples  of  our  Lord. 
The  one  believes  and  trembles,  the  other  believes  and 


PRAYING,  AND  MAKING  PRAYERS.  105 

loves.     As  to  their  orthodoxy,  they  are  on  a  level. 

We  are  looking,  therefore,  for  some  means  of  detec- 
tion— some  sifting  process — by  which  the  artificial 
may  be  separated  from  the  real,  and  the  false  from 
the  true.  In  this  search  of  the  hour,  we  may  find  as- 
sistance as  we  observe  the  contrasts  that  surrounded 
the  inquiry  of  our  text.  The  disciples  are  a  good  deal 
puzzled  over  the  difference  that  they  very  plainly  see 
exists  between  the  religion  in  which  the  Master  is  ed- 
ucating them,  and  up  to  the  exalted  plane  of  which  He 
proposes  to  lead  them,  and  the  religion  of  the  disci- 
ples of  John  and  the  Pharisees — who  "fast  often  and 
make  ijrayers."  In  no  little  anxiety  and  perturba- 
tion of  mind,  they  are  asking  the  Master  about  it. 
The  problem  that  gives  them  so  much  trouble  is  the 
problem  of  every  age.  Why  this  difference?  Why 
these  two  things  always  commingled  in  human  life? 
The  artificial  and  the  real.  The  counterfeit  and  the 
true. 

The  question  is  a  deep  one.  The  philosophy  of  it 
is  among  the  mysteries  of  the  kingdom.  The  fact  is 
palpable,  and  its  universalitv,  in  the  present  order  of 
things,  is  not  a  question  of  (lisi)utc. 

Let  us  look  at  the  distinguishing  marks  upon  these 
two  kinds  of  coin.  Let  us  observe  the  differences 
whereby  we  may  detect  the  lalse  and  discover  the 
true,  and  tell  at  once  the  artificial  and  the  real. 
Overagainst  the  system  of  religion  of  the  Christ,  those 
disciples,  in  their  inquiry,  place  two  .systems,  that  of 
thedisciples  of  John  the  Bn])tist  and  that  of  the  Phari- 
sees.   The  system  of  John  the  Baptist,  when  he  gave  it. 


106  PRAYING,  AND  MAKING  PRAYERS. 

wasallright.  It  had  the  true  ring.  It  wasthe  genuine 
coin,  bearing  the  stamp  of  the  kingdom.  It  soHdified 
on  this  central  principle — repentance  for  the  remission 
of  sins.  It  needed  only  the  cope.stone  of  faith.  One 
touch  of  the  Master's  hand,  and  the  building  would  be 
complete.  But  the  disciples  of  John,  when  John  was 
put  in  prison,  took  lesson  of  the  Pharisees,  and  ran  the 
system  of  their  imprisoned  leader  in  the  same  groove. 
And  so  the_v  are  classified  together,  and  there  were 
not  three  types  of  religion  in  their  catalogue,  but  two 
only.  The  two  were  distinguished  both  b}'  their  in- 
herent qualities,  and  by  the  object  they  had  in  view. 
By  what  the}'  were,  and  by  what  they  proposed  to 
accomplish  in  the  hearts  and  lives  of  men. 

They  were  contrasted  in  their  controlling  qualities. 
The  one  contained  a  series  of  ceremonies  and  forms 
that  were  to  be  observed  for  their  own  sake.  The 
ceremonies  and  the  forms  ends  in  themselves.  To 
"fast  often"  and  to  "make  prayers"  was  of  the  es- 
sence of  religion.  The  observation  of  ceremony,  fidel- 
ity to  form,  these  were  the  fundamentals.  To  make 
clean  the  outside  of  the  cup  was  a  finality.  To 
whiten  a  sephulchre  was  to  disinfect  the  corruption 
that  was  inside  of  it.  Ceremony  and  form  for  their 
own  sake.    That  was  the  first  step. 

Then  there  was  a  thoroughly  hide  bound  ecclesias- 
ticism.  They  claimed  the  regular  organization  from 
Abraham  down.  Voluntary  associations  for  relig- 
ious work  would  find  in  Phariseeism  a  cold  day. 
Everything  was  subordinated  to  keeping  up  the  reg- 
ular order,  and  all  that  came  in  the  way  of  religious 


PRAYING,  AND  MAKING  PRAYERS. 


107 


ministrations  must  come  that  channel.  It  was, 
as  before,  the  outward  and  the  material  for  their  own 
sake.  Ecclesiastical  order  took  precedence  over  the 
salvation  of  souls.  First  regularitv,  then  better  men 
and  women. 

And,  in  the  same  spirit,  this  system,  distinguished 
b}'  the  disciples  from  the  system  of  the  Christ,  set 
sound  theology  above  saving  faith.  They  cared 
vastly  more  that  men  should  think  as  they  did,  than 
that  they  should  do  ever}'  time  the  right  thing.  They 
were  more  concerned  for  their  philosophy  than  for 
their  faith.  For  what  they  believed  than  for  how 
they  behaved. 

These,  then,  were  the  characteristics  of  the  system 
as  a  system — form  and  ceremony  for  their  own  sake, 
ecclesiastical  order  as  a  finality,  soundness  of  doc- 
trine as  of  the  essensc  and  substance  of  religion. 

Opposed  to  these  controlling  characteristics  that 
mark  the  counterfeit  coin  we  may  trace  the  qualities 
of  the  authorized  currency  of  tlie  realm.  Now  we 
have  the  form  and  the  ceremony  as  instrumentalities 
to  the  end  beyond— no  longer  as  the  essence  of,  but 
as  helps  to,  devotion.  The  stately  and  cultured  lit- 
urgy now  ministers  to  reverence  and  thoughtfulness 
in  prayer.  The  beauties  of  art  ins])ire  to  the  higher 
beauty  of  holiness.  Tlie  melody  of  music  and  of  song 
become  the  refrain  of  the  higher  harmonies  of  spirit, 
where  the  u])lift  of  the  soul  is  in  sweet  attune  with 
its  Ciod.  The  evil  is  not  in  the  form  l)ut  in  the  ])ur- 
])ose  tor  which  the  form  is  used.  'I'his  differentiates 
the  artificial  from  the  real,  the  false  from  the  true. 


108  PHAYING,  AND  MAKING  PRAYERS. 

We  trace  the  same  distinction  as  to  the  attitude  of 
the  church  as  an  outward  and  visible  organization. 
It  is  no  longer  a  finality — the  ultimatum  of  the  soul 
within.  We  are  not  now  made  religious  b}*  being 
members  of  the  church,  but  we  are  made  members  of 
the  church  by  being  religious.  These  are  two  oppo- 
site and  contradictory  things.  The  church  is  import- 
ant as  an  instrumentality,  as  a  means,  but  no  longer 
vital  as  an  end.  It  is  not  a  palace  of  perfected  saints, 
but  a  hospital  of  imperfect  sinners.  It  is  not  a  con- 
servatory where  every  plant  is  in  luxuriant  bloom, 
but  a  garden  where  ever}'  germ  is  growing  and  will 
blossom,  if  not  now,  then  by  and  bye.  Its  regula- 
tions and  laws  are  not  an  alphabet  displayed  for  the 
beaut}-  of  the  letters,  the  symmetry  and  grace  of  their 
foi-m,  but  a  very  plain  alphabet  with  which  we  may 
spell  the  final  word  l-o-v-e. 

A  sound  theology  is  still  important.  Knowledge, 
accurate  and  clear,  is  helpful  to  all  that  is  highest  and 
best,  but  it  is  not  the  essential,  the  decisive  thing. 
As  with  regard  to  church  membershi]),  we  may  re- 
peat the  principle,  men  are  not  religious  because  they 
are  orthodox,  but  they  are  orthodox  because  they 
are  religious.  The  more  truth  the  better  everywhere 
in  every  relation  of  life,  only  this  is  to  be  remembered, 
that  truth  in  the  heart  immeasurably  outweighs,  in 
the  scales  of  the  eternities,  tnith  in  the  head.  The 
great  Napoleon  was  an  excellent  theologian.  This  is 
said  to  have  been  his  confession  of  faith:  "My  religion 
is  very  simple.  I  look  at  this  universe,  so  vast,  so  com- 
plex, so  magnificent,  and  I  sa}'  to  myself  that  it  can- 


PRAYING,  AND  MAKING  PRAYERS. 


109 


not  be  the  result  of  chance,  but  the  work,  however  in- 
tended,of  an  unknown,  ouinipotcnt  Being,  as  superior 
to  man  as  the  universe  is  superior  to  the  finest  ma- 
chines of  human  invention."  A  faultless  theology. 
What  was  the  matterof  it  ?  It  was  theory  in  exile  at 
St.  Helena.  Not  practice  on  the  plains  of  Austerlitz 
and  Waterloo. 

The  posture  of  all  true  religion  is  this:  (5et  all  the 
truth  you  can.  Think  as  unerringly.  Believe  as  cor- 
rectly. And  then  put  truth  into  your  life.  Live  your 
orthodoxy.  Make  your  theology  a  vital,  ever-pres- 
ent force  in  societv,  and  a  motive  power  in  human 
affairs. 

We  thus  distinguish  these  two  tvpes  of  religion, 
these  contradictory  S3'stems,  by  what  they  are. 

Let  us  still  further  follow  the  line  of  cleavage  as  we 
recall  the  wholly  different  objects,  for  the  attainment 
of  which,  under  these  opposite  systems,  men  and 
women  are  religious.  The  artificial  and  the  counter- 
feit is  employed,  always,  for  the  purpose  of  covering 
up  something.  The  genuine  and  the  real,  for  letting 
out  the  best  that  is  in  us,  and  giving  it  ample  play. 
When  a  man  resorts  to  the  one  he  has  something  he 
wants  to  hide.  He  wants  to  serve  the  devil  in  some 
way.  and  he  "steals  the  livery  of  heaven"  that  he 
may  render  the  service  more  gracefully.  Perhaps  he 
is  very  worldly  and  absorbed  in  the  pleasures  of  the 
world.  He  wants  to  conceal  this  with  the  garb  of 
religion,  "That  he  may  a])pcar  unto  men  to  fast." 
He  may  have  some  darling  ambition.  It  mav  seem 
surer  of  attainment  if  he  passes  in  society  for  a 


110  PRAYING,  AND  MAKING  PRAYERS. 

churchman.  And  so  he  puts  on  the  cloak.  Or  he  may 
have  been  guilty  of  some  heinous  crime.  Though  the 
law  and  the  courts  never  got  hold  of  him,  perhaps  he 
is  an  escaped  convict  from  the  penitentiarj'  of  con- 
science, and  he  fears  everybody  wiW  see  the  brand 
upon  his  soul.  He  seeks  a  hiding  place  in  religious 
observances  and  church  going,  so  that  he  may  look  a 
little  better,  and,  in  his  own  sight,  perhaps,  appear  a 
little  cleaner. 

This  was  the  motive,  clear  as  daylight,  down  in  the 
heart  of  those  old  Pharisees.  Thev  were  abominable 
rascals,  and  the}'  knew  it.  He  who  wasmild  of 
manner  and  gentle  of  speech,  said  thev  were  a  "gen- 
eration of  vipers,"  and  the  snake  element  was  forever 
manifesting  itself.  But  they  thought  they  could  hide 
away  all  this  vileness  and  get  the  viper  out  of  sight. 
That  they,  whose  father  was  the  devil,  could  pass  for 
those  whose  father  was  God — "God  is  our  Father." 
The  Saviour  simply  stripped  oft"  this  garment,  and 
showed  them  to  the  world  just  as  they  were.  They 
have  appeared  ever  since  in  their  true  colors,  and 
have  come  down  in  history  the  representative  hypo- 
crites of  the  ages. 

True  religion  has  nothing  to  cover,  nothing  to  con- 
ceal. It  has  no  skeleton  for  which  a  closet  must  be 
prepared  in  the  enclosure  of  the  soul.  Xo  stolen 
goods  for  which  it  would  construct  a  safety  vault. 
No  vices  it  would  varnish,  no  spots  it  needs  to  dis- 
guise. It  becomes  roligidus  not  that  it  may  cover  it- 
self up,  but  that,  in  oftering  and  sacrifice,  it  may  let 
itself  out.     No  longer  concealment,  but  expression. 


PRAYING,  AND  MAKING  PRAYERS.  Ill 

Not  hiding  awa}-,  but  coming  out  into  the  sunshine. 

And  then,  there  is  the  additional  contrast  in  this, 
that  the  artificial  and  the  false  centres  in  selfish  en- 
joyment and  aspiration ;  the  honest  and  the  true 
goes  forth  in  purest  service  to  humanity.  The  one  is 
religious  because  it  loves  itself.  The  other  because  it 
loves  its  fellow^  and  its  God.  The  aim  of  the  one  is  to 
get  the  soul  through.  It  is  a  kind  of  ticket,  issued 
professedly  for  a  passage  to  the  skies.  It  is  religious 
for  the  sake  of  getting  to  heaven.  The  other 
would  make  a  heaven  down  here.  Keeping  itself 
pure  and  doing  good  to  men. 

The  extraordinary  judicial  qualities  of  the  peerless 
king  in  Jerusalem,  tradition  tells  us,  were  once  tested 
in  this  way.  Two  large  clusters  ol  flowers,  the  one 
artificial  and  the  other  real,  were  held  before  him  at 
the  opposite  end  of  the  room,  and  the  king  was  to 
decide  as  to  the  fact.  "Open  the  windows,"  said  Sol- 
omon, "and  let  in  the  bees."  The  clusters  of  flowers 
of  these  two  types  of  religion  lie  before  us.  How 
shall  we  distinguish  them  ?  Let  in  the  bees  of  daily 
dutjs  of  humblest  toil,  of  lowliest  service.  It  wont 
take  them  long  to  find  the  honey. 

Mahmoud,  the  concpieror  of  India,  found  at  Somnat 
a  great  idol,  and  cried  to  his  followers :  "Destroy  it." 
The  Brahmins  fell  before  him,  pleading :  "Spare  our 
god  Somnat,  and  we  will  give  thee  gold,  pearls  and 
jewels  of  rarest  lustre."  The  command  was  given 
again,  "Destroy  it,"  and  with  the  blow  there 
flowed  forth  from  within  it  pearls,  jewels  and  choic- 
est gold,  a  hundred  fold  more  than  the  ransom  terri- 


112 


PRAYING,  AND  MAKING  PHAYERS. 


fied  Brahmins  had  proposed.  True  reli^on  smites 
the  image  of  worldliness  and  sin,  and  dashes  it  to 
the  earth.  It  finds  "manifold  more  in  this  present 
time,  and  in  the  world  to  come  life  everlasting." 

As  we  draw  this  contrast  today,  do  we  not  feel  like 
sitting  down  with  ourselves  and  asking,  at  the  door 
of  our  own  hearts,  "which  of  these  two  kinds  of  re- 
ligion have  we  got  ?  "  In  the  commerce  of  the  eter- 
nities, are  we  circulating  the  counterfeit  or  the  gen- 
uine coin  ?  Are  we  religious  for  the  sake  of  happi- 
ness, or  are  we  happy  because  we  are  religious?  Are 
we  church  members  to  cover  up  something  and,  if 
possible,  slide  in  at  last?  Or  is  religion  the  atmos- 
phere of  our  soul,  the  vital  air  of  spirit,  heaven  be- 
gun below  ? 


One  /Wore  Appeal  to  Men. 


And  I  SOUGHT  for  a    man  among    thkm,  that 

SHOULD  MAKIC  UP  THK  HEDGE,  AND  STAND  IN  THE 
GAP  BP:K0KE  MK  I'OK  THK  LAND,  THAT  I  SHOUI,D 
NOT    DESTROY     IT,     BUT    I      FOUND     NONR. — Hzck. 

XXII,  30. 

♦fF  DESIRE  to  present  to  any  of  my  non-church- 
II  going  friends,  more  es])ecially  of  my  own  sex, 
who,  in  i-esponse  to  my  invitation,  may  be  present 
to-day,  a  wholly  unimpassioned  and  emotionless 
argument.  I  shall  aim  to  address  you  as  though  I 
were  arguing  a  case  before  a  judge  rather  than  be- 
fore ajur}'.  Where  all  apjical  to  sentiment  shall  be 
in  abej-ance,  and  only  the  cold  logic  of  the  case  shall 
be  the  subject  of  consideration  and  thought. 

I  desire  also,  in  this  argument,  to-daj-,  to  eliminate 
the  preacher  from  the  problem,  his  interests  or  happi- 
ness, however  intimately  they  may  be  involved.  I 
have  many  times  made  to  you  an  appeal  from  that 
standpoint.  You  know  already,  just  as  well  as  I, 
what  a  source  of  regret,  and  of  anxiety  as  well,  your 
absence  from  the  sanctuary  always  must  be  to  the 
preacher.  Not  only  on  your  own  account,  but  also 
on  his  own.  The  inference  he  cannot  avoid  must  be 
that  his  preaching  is  not  sufficiently  interesting  to 


114 


ONE  MORE  APPEAL  TO  MEN. 


render  your  attendance  upon  it  a  pleasure.  That 
goes  without  sa^'ing.  Dismissing,  therefore,  alto- 
gether, the  personal  wishes  and  interests  of  the 
preacher,  and  avoiding  all  questions  of  religious  sen- 
timent and  spiritual  emotion,  I  propose  to  present  to 
you  to-day  an  argument  based,  as  I  believe,  upon 
principles  that  yovt  will  not  call  in  question,  and 
that,  if  you  will  consent  to  give  them  your  candid 
and  careful  attention,  may  induce  your  conscience  to 
a  change,  and  ma}'  lead  3'ou,  as  honorable  and 
manlv  men,  to  what  I  believe  you  will  see  to  be  the 
only  honorable  and  manly  thing. 

My  first  proposition  then  is  that  you  will  accept 
as  fundamental  to  all  true  religion,  to  all  happy  rela- 
tions between  man  and  man,  the  principle  that  v'ou 
should  always  "put  j-ourself  in  his  place,"  whose 
interests  you  are  considering,  and  ^-our  relations  to 
whom  are  the  present  question  of  morals.  You 
will  come  to  a  right  conclusion  just  so  far  as  3'ou  do 
this  one  thing— put  yourself  in  his  place.  Confucius, 
the  old  Chinese  philosopher,  some  four  hundred 
vears,  I  believe,  before  Christ,  put  this  principle  in 
these  words:  "Whatsoever  ye  would  not  that  men 
should  do  to  you,  do  ye  not  to  them."  A  wiser  Phi- 
losopher, four  hundred  years  after,  lifted  that  prin- 
ciple to  a  still  higher  plane,  put  it  in  the  affirmative 
form,  and,  sweeping  the  whole  range  of  morals,  said  : 
"Whatsoever  ye  would  that  men  should  do  to  you, 
do  ye  even  so  unto  them."  "Put  yourself  in  his 
place." 

I  am  sure,  at  the  outset  of  this  argument,  that  v'ou 


ONE  MORE  APPEAL  TO  MEN. 


115 


will  not  demur  to  this  proposition,  that  this  is  the 
fundamental  principle  of  all  our  relations  with  men 
in  society,  and  in  the  daily  'intercourse  of  life.  I  am 
sui-e  that  you  are  making  it  your  aim  to  live  in  har- 
mony with  this  principle,  and  that  you  hope  sin- 
cerely to  embody  it,  as  a  controlling  influence,  in 
your  character  and  conduct.  You  expect  other  men 
to  live  in  obedience  to  it,  and,  as  a  mere  matter  of 
justice  and  equity,  you  intend  to  do  it  yourself.  No 
appeal  from  me  is  necessary  to  urge  the  principle.  It 
would  be  wholl3^  out  of  place  for  me  to  advise  its  ac- 
ceptance. You  have  accepted  it  already  at  the  bar 
of  conscience,  and  you  recognize  its  imperative  and 
its  imperial  and  imperious  demands.  You  are  en- 
deavoring to  bow  to  them,  as  an  u])right,  good 
man,  in  business,  in  society,  and  in  the  afi'airs  of 
every  day.  You  are,  in  each  new  relation  into 
which  you  may  be  brought,  and  at  each  new  point 
of  contact  with  your  fellow  men,  asking  the  cjues- 
tion.  What  would  I  have  them  do  to  me?  and  you 
are,  so  far  as  you  tire  true  to  your  own  purpose, 
and  honest  with  yourself,  doing  that  to  them.  This 
is  wholly  ajjart  from  any  spiritual  or  religious  con- 
siderations. You  may  be  wholly  uninterested  in 
these.  You  may  have  dismissed  them  altogether, 
from  your  thought.  "Business  is  business,"  and 
you  have  cared  for  no  separate  or  higher  plane. 
But,  on  that  plane,  you  have  long  ago  concluded 
that  the  best  way  to  work  out  the  i)rol)lem  of  life  is 
to  do  it  on  this  basis,  and  to  conduct  your  l)nsiness, 
and  to  direct  your  affairs,  on  this  principle  that,  if 


116  ONE  MORE  APPEAL  TO  MEN. 

you  do  not  attempt  to  do  unto  men  as  3'ou  would 
have  them  do  unto  you,  the\'  will  not  make  any 
attempt  to  do  it,  and  eytrj'thing  will  be  at  sixes  and 
sevens.  Down,  therefore,  on  the  material  plane  of 
business  interests,  of  pacific  relations  in  society,  and 
the  bare  necessity  of  getting  along  as  well  as  we 
can  with  men,  you  accept  this  principle,  and  vou 
recognize  the  propriety  of  putting  yourself  in  his 
place.    That  is  m}'  first  proposition. 

Secondly,  I  am  alike  sure  that  you  desire  the  con- 
tinuance, in  your  community,  and  in  every  commun- 
ity' of  men,  of  the  Christian  church  as  an  out- 
ward and  visible  organization  You  desire  this 
just  as  sincerely  and  just  as  heartily  as  any  who 
are  contributing  their  part  to  its  continued  exist- 
ence, and,  by  their  habitual  presence,  are  doing  their 
share  to  i)reserve  it  from  ultimate  extinction.  You 
may  have  no  interest  whatever  in  denominational 
issues.  You  may  not  care  whether  the  church,  as  an 
institution  in  society,  is  Episcopalian,  or  Baptist,  or 
Alethodist,  or  Presbyterian.  Indeed,  you  may  be 
wholly  indifferent  whether  it  is  Romanist  or  Prot- 
estant. But  vou  want  the  church,  in  some  form,  to 
continue,  just  as  much  as  the  most  persistent  church 
goer  in  this  town.  Y  ou  know  very  well,  without  my 
saving  it,  that  vour  factory  would  not  be  safe,  your 
business  would  be  fatally  imperilled,  y-our  store,  and 
vour  ware  room,  and  your  office,  and  your  house, 
would  l)e  at  the  mercy  of  a  mo]),  if  there  were  no 
church  in  Sandy  Hill.  You  wouldn't  have  the  church 
go  out  of  existence  for  anything  in  the  world.  You 


ONE  MORE  APPEAL  TO  MEN.  117 

think  it  is  a  good  thing.  You  consider  it  a  safeguard 
to  society,  a  protection  to  property,  and  a  helpful 
factor  in  restraining  men  and  women  from  criminal 
courses,  in  discouraging  them  from  general  mean- 
ness, and  from  many  perverse  and  abominable 
things.  You  may  have  a  very  unfavorable  opinion 
of  some  church  members  in  the  concrete,  you  may 
have  had  some  very  unsatisfactory  experiences  with 
them,  and  you  may  have  found  them  very  unrelialjle 
and  slippery,  but  that  does  not  go  to  the  heart  of 
the  question,  and  the  church,  in  the  abstract,  has 
your  unqualified  and  loyal  support.  Very  probably 
you  give  a  great  deal  of  money  to  its  material  sup- 
port, and  assist  very  generously  to  pay  its  bills,  to 
liquidate  its  mortgages,  and  to  meet  its  ever  recur- 
ring obligations.  All  this  is  because  you  want  the 
church  to  keep  on,  and  hope  for  its  continued  exist- 
ence as  a  beneficial  institution  in  socictv,  and  an 
excellent  hospital  for  the  morallv  sick  and  woimdcd, 
while  you  who  are  so  well  have  no  need  of  its  minis- 
tration. As  a  moral  force,  you  believe  in  it  just  as 
sincerely  as  I,  or  any  of  your  neighbors.  This  is  my 
second  proposition. 

Thirdly,  3'ou  are  aware  that  there  is  a  considerable 
portion  of  this  community,  as  of  the  communities 
around  and  be^'ond  us,  who,  by  their  habitual  pres- 
ence and  co-operation,  are  contributing  their  full 
share  to  the  sustentation  and  continuance  of  the 
Christian  church,  as  an  outward  and  visible  organi- 
zation. 

This  portion  consists  largely,  it  is  true,  of  women. 


118 


ONE  MORE  APPEAL  TO  MEN. 


The  fact  is  easily  accounted  for  on  two  grounds. 
Finst,  women  are  generally  better  than  men,  and 
more  inclined  to  the  highest  and  best  things.  They 
are  more  elevated  in  their  instincts,  and  more  spir- 
itual in  their  frame.  And,  secondly,  whenever  any 
good  work  is  undertaken,  whenever  any  move- 
ment of  reform  is  inaugurated,  any  measure  for 
the  benefit  or  amelioration  of  mankind,  women,  as  a 
natural  thing,  are  in  the  majority.  There  are  a 
great  many  excellent  women  in  the  \V.  C.  T.  U.  And 
a  great  company  of  others  who,  while  not  enrolled 
in  its  membership,  are  in  heartiest  sympathy,  and 
most  constant  co-oi)cration,  with  its  activities  and 
aims.  An  M.  C.  T.  U.  has  not  yet  been  proposed,  so 
far  as  I  am  aware.  The  contrast  is  significant.  In 
the  most  vital  reform  of  the  age  women  are  far  on 
in  the  van.  Men  have  not  started.  And  so  it  is  a 
wholly  congruous  circumstance  that,  in  this  portion 
of  socict}'  that  are  actively  .sustaining  the  Christian 
church,  there  is  a  large  preponderance  of  women. 
But  with  the  gallant  and  noble  women  there  is  a 
goodly  band  of  excellent  and  exem])lary  men,  who 
stand  high  in  the  community,  who  are  among  its 
most  intelligent,  infiuential  and  honored  members. 
Active  and  cai  ncst  and  faithful,  as  they  are,  in  every 
good  word  and  work,  they  are  the  pillars  of  the 
church,  and  thev  are  consecrating  their  best  energies 
and  ])owers  to  its  jjrescrvation  and  perpetuity.  And 
vou,  I  may  he  pcrniiLted  to  say,  with  all  your  heart, 
honor  and  love  them  for  it. 
Now'  this  portion  of  the  community  of  which  I 


ONE  MORE  APPEAL  TO  MEN. 


119 


speak,  is  sustaining  the  church,  as  an  outward  and 
visible  institution,  many  times  at  great  self-sacrifice, 
and  often  at  severe  cost.  The  preaching  to  vi'hich  they 
listen  is  sometimes  very  poor.  The  music,  sometimes, 
grates  like  jargon  on  their  ears.  Sometimes,  on 
Sunday  morning,  after  a  hard  and  laborious  v^'eek, 
the}-  are  very  tired  and  seem  to  need  a  rest,  of  which 
they  have  been  deprived.  Sometimes  they  would 
like  very  much  a  day  of  recreation ;  a  ride  ])erhaps  on 
their  wheel  into  the  countr}',  or  a  quiet  sojourn  in 
some  retreat  among  the  hills  or  mountains,  or  along 
the  lake  shore,  or  the  sea  side.  But,  notwithstand- 
ing all  these,  there  they  ai^e,  in  their  ])laccs,  as  regu- 
lar as  the  ticking  of  the  clock,  by  their  presence  sus- 
taining, and  by  their  active  co-operation  ui)holding, 
the  appointed  service  of  the  house  of  God.  They  are, 
to  the  utmost  of  their  influence,  contributing  to  the 
continued  existence  of  the  Christian  church. 

Now  the  one  thing,  more  than  any  other,  that  im- 
pedes their  work ;  the  one  thing,  more  than  anv 
other,  that  threatens  it  with  defeat,  and  that  threat- 
ens the  church  they  are  endeavoring  to  sustain  with 
extinction,  is  the  absence  of  so  many  intelligent,  cul- 
tured, upright,  manly  men  from  the  service  of  the 
sanctuary,  where  the  vacant  spaces  protest  against 
the  gross  incongruity,  and  cry  ()ut  against  the  great 
injustice.  Your  absence,  my  brother  men,  is  the  clog 
on  the  wheel,  the  ball  and  chain  at  their  feet,  the 
high  wall  close  up  against  them  that  they  arc  power- 
less to  surmount.  If  they  fail  to  uphold  the  church, 
if  they  do  not  succeed  in  their  self-sacrificing,  noble 


120 


ONE  MORE  APPEAL  TO  MEN. 


work,  the  crime  against  humanity  and  against  God 
will  be  laid  at  your  door.  Put  yourself,  therefore, 
in  their  place.  "Whatsoever  ye  would  that  men 
should  do  unto  you,  do  you  even  so  unto  them." 
Suppose  that  3'ou  were  engaged,  with  all  your  heart, 
in  that  great,  good  work.  And  suppose  that  they 
were  the  great  impediment  in  your  path,  the  one 
great  hindrance  in  your  way.  What  would  3'ou 
want  them  to  do?  Do  that.  The  preaching  to 
which  you  listen  may  not  measure  up  to  the  high 
standard  of  intellectuality  and  spiritual  grasp  that 
your  mental  make-up  seems  to  require.  Perhaps  it 
would  not,  if  you  did  the  pixaching  yourself  The 
music  may  not  meet  the  requirements  of  your  culti- 
vated and  exacting  taste.  Perhaps  it  would 
not,  were  you  the  player  or  the  singer.  You  may 
be  very  tired  with  a  hard  week's  work.  You 
may  very  much  ])refer,  many  times,  a  da3''s  recrea- 
tion and  fun,  to  an  hour  and  a  halfs  dut\%  and  a 
personal  obligation  ccpiitably  and  fairly  discharged. 
But  this  is  the  argument.  Your  fundamental  princi- 
ple of  morals,  by  which  you  are  purposing  to  mould 
vour  life,  is  embodied  iu  that  maxim  you  unquali- 
fiedly and  heartily  accept,  to  do  as  you  would  be 
done  by.  Your  neighbors,  by  their  presence  and  co- 
oi)eration,  are  continuing  the  existence  in  our  town 
of  the  Christian  church.  Its  existence  you  believe  to 
be  vital  to  the  best  interests  of  the  community,  to 
the  safety  of  society,  and  to  the  permanence  of  our 
free  institutions.  Your  habitual  absence  is  the  great 
danger  that  hangs  over  them.     If  you  were  doing 


ONE  MORE  APPEAL  TO  MEN. 


121 


this  thing  you  would  want  them  to  dissipate  that 
cloud,  and  turn  in  and  help  you  before  the  whole 
project  proved  a  failure,  and  everything  went  to 
pieces  in  your  hands.  On  your  own  principle  of  mor- 
als,! rest  my  argument. 

And  then  I  take  that  fundamental  principle  of 
yours,  to  which  you  will  not  prove  disloyal,  and  I 
carry  it  another  step.  I  make  a  still  closer  and  more 
direct  application.  However  important  you 
may  regard  3'our  business  interests,  as  they  are  to- 
day reposed  in  your  hands,  your  factory,  or  your 
store,  or  your  office,  or  your  farm,  you  know,  down 
in  your  heart,  that  more  important  than  all  these  is 
the  existence  of  the  Christian  church,  and  that, 
whether  3'ou  act  upon  the  theory  or  not,  the  King- 
dom of  God  is  primal,  and  is  ever  the  first  thing  to 
besought.  Now  let  us  come  down  to  the  inferior 
plane  of  your  business,  or  financial,  interests,  your 
factory,  or  store,  or  office,  or  farm.  These  that  are 
of  far  less  importance  than  the  interests  that  are  at 
stake  in  the  preservation  and  permanence  of  the 
Christian  church,  as  I  am  sure  you  will  be  frank  to 
admit.  Now  supppose thatby  sitting  one  hour  and  a 
half  each  week  in  your  factory,  or  store,  or  office,  or 
on  your  farm,  these  church  goers,  however  unpleas- 
ant it  might  be  to  them  to  do  it,  and  however  much 
they  might  prefer  to  do  something  else,  suppose  that 
by  sitting  there  they  could  further  the  interests 
of  your  busniess,  and  promote  the  success  of  vour 
factory,  or  store,  or  office,  or  farm,  and  suppose  they 
wouldn't  do  it,  what  would  you  think  of  them? 


122 


ONE  MORE  APPEAL  TO  MEN. 


And  what  would  you  think  of  their  conduct?  What 
would  you  think  of  them  and  of  their  conduct  in  this 
inferior  realm,  this  lower  sphere,  of  material  and 
perishable  things  ?  The  realm  of  financial  interests, 
the  sphere  of  business  success?  How  unkind,  how 
thoughtless,  how  inconsiderate  would  these  church 
goers  be,  if  they  would  not  devote  one  hour  and  a 
half  out  of  168  to  help  along  your  business,  and  in- 
sure your  financial  success!  Put  yourself  in  their 
place.  Do  as  you  would  be  done  by.  In  the  higher 
realm  of  the  enduring  and  the  permanent,  in  the 
sphere  of  immortal  interests  and  the  true  riches,  in 
comparison  with  which  the  success  of  factories  and 
stores  and  offices  and  farms  you  yourself  believe  all 
fade  away,  these  church  goers  are  upholding  the  pil- 
lars of  society  ;  the}'  are  holding  back  the  flood  gates 
of  immorality  and  crime ;  they  are  consecrating 
their  best  energies  and  powers  to  the  preservation 
and  the  perpetuation  of  that  one  institution  or- 
dained of  God  to  protect  communities  from  chaos, 
and  society  from  dissolution.  If  you  would  expect 
that  hour  and  a  half  from  them  if  it  aided  your  busi- 
ness, and  insured  your  greater  financial  success,  will 
you  not  acce]5t  the  full  force  of  the  argument  and, 
where  interests  are  vitally  more  important  to  them 
and  to  vou  and  to  the  world,  will  3'ou  not  give  them 
the  hour  and  a  half  that  will  change  discouragement 
into  elation,  and  that  will  convert  those  vacant 
spaces  that  threaten  extinction  into  occupied  pews, 
whose  occupants  are,  at  whatever  sacrifice  or  cost, 
and  however  unpleasant  it  may  sometimes  be,  and 


ONE  MORE  APPEAL  TO  MEN. 


123 


however  more  pleasant  some  other  thing  might  be 
in  its  stead,  whose  occupants  are  putting  themselves 
in  the  place  of  those  whose  claims  the}'  had  forgot- 
ten, for  a  time,  and  are  doing  unto  them  as  they 
would  that  they  should  do  in  return  ? 

The  condition,  and  not  the  theory,  we  to-day  con- 
front is  a  serious  one.  It  is  not  so  desperate  as  in 
the  davs  of  Ezekiel.  The  text  says  that  he  "sought 
for  a  man  among  them  that  should  make  up  the 
hedge,  and  stand  in  the  gap  before  (him)  for  the 
land,  that  (God)  should  not  destroy  it;  but  (he) 
found  none.''  To-day,  as  I  have  said,  associated 
with  the  worthy  and  excellent  women,  there  is  a 
noble  company  of  men  who  are  helping  them  to 
"make  up  the  hedge  and  stand  in  the  gap."  But 
there  are  others.  To  these  I  present  the  argument  I 
have  endeavored  to  weave  out  of  the  warp  and  woof 
of  logic  and  of  fact,  without  an  ornamental  thread 
of  sentiment  or  fancy.  As  I  said,  at  the  outset  of  the 
discussion,  I  make  my  argument  as  in  the  presence 
of  a  judge  sitting  on  the  bench.  It  is  wholly  unim- 
passioncd,  and  free  from  personalities  and  pathetic 
appeal.  It  is  a  question  wholly  of  equit}'  and  jus- 
tice. It  pertains  to  fundamental  morals.  My  non- 
church  going  friends,  whom  I  make  my  judges  this 
day,  will-  you  not  take  this  argument,  and,  if  its 
successive  links  hold  together,  if  it  warrants,  by 
rigid  logic,  the  conclusion  it  presents,  will  you  not 
give  your  decision  with  judicial  impartiality,  and,  in 
accordance  with  that  decision,  determine  the  action 
of  the  court  ? 


(s)@ 


....Foreign  Missions.... 


WW 


I  WAS  IN  PRISON  AND  YE  CAME  UNTO  ME. — Matt. 
XXV,  J6. 


HE  impressiveness  of  our  Master's  word,  in  His 


picture  of  the  ever  present  judgment,  consists  in 
His  identification  of  Himself  with  the  least  and  the 
lowest  of  those  of  whom  He  speaks.  "Inasmuch  as^'C 
have  done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these  my  breth- 
ren, ye  have  done  it  unto  me."  He  and  the  hungry 
are  one  personality.  "I  was  hungry."  He  and  the 
thirsty  arc  an  identity.  "I  was  thirsty."  And  so 
each  of  the  suffering,  and  the  distressed  he  carries 
upon  His  infinite  heart.  Each  one  is  Himself.  What 
we  do  to  each  we  do  to  Him.  This  is  the  supreme 
finality.  This  is  essential  judgment.  The  'judg- 
ment seat  of  Clirisl, "  of  which  Paul  speaks,  before 
which  we  must  all  appear,  is  this  identification  of 
Master  and  disciple — this  oneness  of  every  soul  we 
touch  with  its  Lord.  We  shall  receive,  every  man, 
"the  deeds  done  in  the  body,"  because  these  deeds 
are  done,  every  one,  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
terminate  every  onr  in  Tlim.  This  is  the  judgment 
the  Scrijjtures  teach.  All  else  is  figurative.  This  is 
final  fact.   The  decision  is  to-day.    The  judgment  is 


126 


FOREIGN  MISSIONS. 


now  and  here.  The  way  we  live  is  the  Master  say- 
ing, Come  ye  blessed,  Depart  ye  cursed  ;  Inherit  the 
kingdom.  Go  into  the  fire. 

I  wish  to  bring  this  tremendous  fact  of  the  eterni- 
ties—the most  tremendous  in  the  whole  scope  of  hu- 
man thought,  the  most  tremendous  in  the  whole 
revelation  of  the  thought  of  God — right  up  close  to 
ovir  conscience  to-day,  and  apply  it  to  the  cause  of 
Foreign  Misions.  If  we  can  linger  for  a  little  while 
in  this  exalted  realm,  there  will  be  no  danger  of  the 
flippant  remarks  that  we  haven't  any  interest  in 
Foreign  Missions,  nor  the  still  more  senseless  dismis- 
sion of  the  subject  with,  Charity  begins  at  home. 
Suppose  it  does.  Is  charity  the  only  thing  in  this 
world  that  makes  a  beginning  and  stops  right  where 
it  began  ?  Ever^'thing  else  begins  and  goes  on. 
Does  charity  begin,  and  never  do  anything  but  be- 
gin ?  Oh,  if  3^ou  onh^  knew  it,  charit\'  is  wondrous 
in  its  expansiveness,  in  its  outgoingness,  in  its  pour- 
ing itself  forth  in  never  ceasing  tide.  For  this  is  its 
nature.  It  is,  as  the  peerless  Drummond  said,  "The 
greatest  thing  in  the  world"  for  the  ver\'  reason  that 
if  it  ever  begins,  at  home  or  anywhere  else,  next  door 
or  in  the  antipodes,  it  goes  on  with  an  acceleration 
known  by  no  other  force  in  this  universe,  and  with 
an  expansiveness  that  no  opposition  can  daunt,  and 
no  maltreatment  chill.  It  went  out  from  the 
heart  of  God,  and  it  has  been  ever  since  that  resist- 
less, rising,  whelming  tide  that  shall  embrace  all 
souls  that  are  willing,  and  all  Hves  that  are  true. 
Let  it  begin  at  home.    But  when  it  begins,  if  it  is  the 


FOREIGN  MISSIONS. 


127 


real  thing,  it  can't  help  but  go  on.  It  is  its  nature 
to  do  it.  But  that  is  aside  from  thesuVyect.  I  de- 
sire to  place  this  appeal  for  Missions  on  so  high  a 
plane  to-day,  that  we  shall  shudder  to  suggest  a 
side  issue,  and  shall  not  presume  to  question  the 
supremacy  and  the  imperiousness  of  its  claims. 

At  the  International  Congregational  Council  in 
Boston,  Dr  Lawson,  the  late  president  of  the  Amer- 
ican Board,  had  been  appointed  to  address  the  Coun- 
cil, assembled  from  many  lands,  on  the  theme,  "The 
Permanence  of  the  Motive  in  Missionary  Work."  Dr. 
Lawson  was  called  awa}'  by  death.  Dr.  Storrs  was 
appointed  in  his  place,  and  when  Dr.  Storrs  rises  to 
speak  on  Foreign  Missions,  then  the  flood  gates  are 
loosened,  and  eloquence  and  pathos  and  glowing  ap- 
peal pour  forth  in  a  resistless,  an  exhaustless  tide. 
Then  the  high  water  mark  of  sacred  orator\'  is 
reached,  and  the  hour  of  twelve  has  struck. 

Dr.  Storrs  finds  the  Permanence  in  the  Motive  in 
the  threefold  fact  of  man's  universal  need,  the  suffi- 
ciency of  the  divine  supply,  and  its  willing  and  am- 
ple bestowal  in  the  gospel  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
To-day  we  will  go  back  of  this,  and  find  the  basis  of 
the  motive  itself  in  the  identification  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  with  humanity.  His  oneness  with  ever3'  child 
of  man.  What  we  do  for  Foreign  Missions,  in  the 
focal  light  of  that  fact,  we  do  for  Jesus;  and  he 
speaks  to  us  to-day  with  all  the  emphasis  of  the  1 800 
years  that  have  passed  between:  "Inasmuch  as  ye 
have  done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these  my  breth- 
ren, ye  have  done  it  unto  me." 


128 


FOREIGN  MISSIONS. 


We  might  enforce  this  essential  principle,  this  fact 
that  lies  at  the  foundation,  by  any  of  the  six  analo- 
gies our  Saviour  employs  with  which  to  impress  His 
searching  thought.  The  great  mass  of  humanity,  who 
represent  the  Lord  Jesus,  are  the  hungry,  famishing 
for  the  bread  of  life,  which  we  have  in  our 
hands  to  give.  They  are  athirst,  waiting  for  us  to 
pour  out  the  living  water.  They  are  strangers,  oh, 
how  far  away,  how  remote,  how  little  known  to  us, 
many  times  because  we  have  not  cared  to  know — 
these  strangers  whp  are  Jesus  Christ  I  They  are 
"naked,"  and  we  hold  in  our  possession  the  spot- 
less robe.  They  are  sick,  ah  so  sick,  and  we  can  take 
them  to  the  great  Physician,  and  make  sure 
the  healing  balm.  These  christs  out  in  all  the  world. 
But  there  seems  a  peculiar  pathos  in  the  sixth  of 
the  celestial  suggestions,  the  analogies  right  from 
the  hol\'  lips,  and  the  infinite  Heart.  Those  who 
stand  for  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  those  with  whom 
He  identifies  Himself,  to  whom  what  we  do,  we  do 
to  Him,  are  "in  prison,"  and  this  call  in  an  annual 
collection  puts  to  us  each  one  the  question,  in  all 
seriousness,  and  in  all  solemnity,  shall  we  come 
unto  Him  .''  Shall  it  be  true,  "I  was  in  prison,  and  ye 
came  unto  me  ?" 

It  is  this  sixth  analogy  conceived  in  the  Master's 
impressive  thought,  that  especially  emphasizes  the 
claim  of  Foreign  Missions.  We  may  think  of  the 
hungry  and  the  thirsting,  the  sick  and  the  stranger 
and  the  naked  as  close  by  us,  standing,  forsooth,  at 
our  door.    But  the  man  or  the  woman  who  is  in 


FOREIGN  MISSIONS. 


129 


prison  is  far  away  from  us,  living  in  a  different  world, 
representing  a  wholly  different  realm,  with  whom 
there  is  no  point  of  contact  with  respectability  and 
order  and  law— whom  we  banish  as  the  vicious  and 
the  criminal  class.  When  we  come  to  him  who  is  in 
prison  we  have  stepped  wholly  out  of  the  range  of 
our  silliness  when  we  were  wont  to  say  "charity  be- 
gins at  home"  as  though  the  fact  that  it  began  in 
that  particular  place  were  excuse  sufficient  and  war- 
rant ample  for  it  to  end  at  the  point  where  it  "began. 

The  analogy  suggests  distance.  It  bids  us  lift  up 
our  eyes  and  look  far  away  and  far  on,  and  there  see 
the  least  of  our  Master's  brethren,  to  whon  what  we 
do,  we  do  unto  Him.  And  when  we  heed  the  sum- 
mons, how  closel}^  still  the  analogy  applies!  These 
that  are  in  prison  !  These  the  lowest  and  the  least ! 
In  ignorence  and  darkness,  victims  of  the  long  ages  of 
degradation  and  superstition,  where,  from  genera- 
tion to  generation,  the  curse  has  been  handed  down, 
accumulating  in  its  burden  of  helplessness  and  inhu- 
manity, as  the  ages  have  rolled  along.  The  prison 
house  of  the  world's  dark  night. 

In  her  work  for  Foreign  Missions,  the  church  comes 
to  men  and  women  who  are  in  galling  chains,  the 
manacles  upon  their  wrists,  the  shackles  upon  their 
feet,  the  yoke  of  humiliation  upon  their  shoulders — 
where,  if  the  gospel  she  proclaims  shall  accomplish 
its  mission,  it  will  be  a  work  such  as  Dr.  Storrs  so 
thrillingly  describes.  "Where  the  woman,  intemper- 
ate, in  harlotry,  in  despair,  has  been  lifted  to  renewed 
womanhood,  as  the  pearl  oyster  is  brought  up  with 


130 


FOREIGN  MISSIONS. 


its  precious  contents  from  the  slimy  ooze;  where  the 
man  whose  lips  had  been  charged  with  the  foulest 
blasphemy  has  become  the  preacher  of  the  gospel  of 
light  and  love  and  peace  and  hope  to  others,  his  for- 
mer comrades;  where  the  feet  that  were  swift  to  do 
evil  have  become  beautiful  on  the  mountains  as  pub- 
lishing salvation.  We  have  seen  these  things  in  indi- 
viduals and  in  communities,  in  the  roughest  frontier 
mining  camp,  where  every  door  opened  into  a  saloon 
or  a  brothel  or  a  gambling  table.  We  have  seen  the 
same  thing  on  a  larger  scale  in  the  coral  islands, 
scenes  of  savage  massacre  and  of  cannibal  riot  and  fe- 
rocity, where  the  church  has  been  planted  and  christ- 
ian fellowship  has  been  established  and  maintained." 

The  work  of  Foreign  Missions,  in  its  essence,  in  its 
inmost  trend,  is  this  act  of  which  the  Master's  anal- 
ogy speaks  so  clearly  and  so  forcefully — it  is  the  min- 
istry of  love  to  those  that  are  "in  prison,"  the  least 
of  the  Master's  brethren.  Himself  in  a  dungeon  cell! 
It  takes  love  to  do  that  work.  Indestructable,  inex- 
tinguishable love; yes,  the  divine  passion,  when  it  is 
baptised  with  the  spirit  of  Christ,  love  that  seeketh 
not  its  own,  can  go  to  humanity  that  is  "in  prison," 
that,  in  the  confinement  of  the  centuries,  the  chains 
and  yoke  of  ignorance  and  vice  welded  through  the 
ages,  is  almost  on  the  plane  of  the  brute  creation, 
and,  in  that  cold,  dark  cell  of  utterest  helplessness, 
can  recognize  the  Christ,  and  see  Him  in  the  least  of 
these  His  brethren.  The  hand  of  sympathy,  the  touch 
of  help,  that  lifts  up  that  lone  prisoner  in  the  cell  of 
grossest  abandonment,  of  darkest  superstition,  is  the 


FOREIGN  MISSIONS. 


131 


hand  that  clasps  in  that  touch  the  hand  of  its  Lord, 
and  hears  Him  say,  "Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  un- 
to one  of  the  least  of  these,  my  brethren,  ye  have 
done  it  unto  me."  This  is  the  genius  of  Foreign  Mis- 
sions. President  McKinley,  in  his  great  speech,  at 
Chicago,  said:  "from  Plymouth  Rock  to  the  Philip- 
ines  the  grand  triumphal  march  of  human  liberty  has 
never  paused."  I  hear  the  footsteps  of  a  more  au- 
gust and  beautific  march  than  that— a  mightier 
tread — it  is  the  march  of  that  spiritual  emancipation 
which,  from  the  day  Paul  stood  on  Mars  hill  until 
these  closing  hours  of  the  nineteenth  century,  has 
never  ceased,  and  never  will  until  the  last  jirison  cell  is 
opened,  and  the  last  prisoner  steps  forth  free.  In 
the  long  watch  before  Santiago  the  terror  of  our 
great  battleships  was  the  two  torpedo  boat  destroy- 
ers, those  swift,  fiendish  sharks  of  the  sea,  as  a  naval 
officer  has  called  them,  and  yet  when  the  great  bat- 
tle came,  it  was  the  unprotected  Gloucester,  a  con- 
verted yacht,  the  former  plaything  and  pleasure  boat 
of  a  summer  vacation,  which,  without  hesitation  or 
turning,  attacked  those  demons  of  the  sea  and  sunk 
them  both.  In  that  stor}^  of  the  war,  I  read  the 
more  thriling  story  of  the  work  of  Foreign  Missions, 
in  an  imprisoned  world  to-6ay.  The  torpedo  boat 
destroyers  are  the  superstitions  and  the  perversions 
of  religious  truth  that  hold  in  galling  chains,  in 
cruel  imprisonment,  the  minds  of  men,  benighted 
and  in  hopeless  despair.  That  which  smites  them 
and  sends  them  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea  is  the  Glou- 
cester of  Christian  love,  love  in  these  hearts  sur- 


132 


FOREIGN  MISSIONS. 


rounded  by  ease  and  every  luxury,  all  around  us  as 
pleasant  and  inviting  as  a  summer  excursion,  but  a 
love  that  goes  out  to  them  that  are  in  prison  and 
with  all  the  majesty  of  love  will  break  their  chains, 
and  make  the  bondmen  free.  Love  sees  in  them  the 
Chi-ist,  and  recognizes  the  face  of  its  Lord. 

The  Presbyterian  church,  whose  agency  we  em- 
ploy in  our  annual  gift  to  this  great  end,  is  worthy 
of  our  supjjort  and  our  co-operation.  She  stands 
far  on,  in  tliis  ministry'  to  the  nations,  in  the  van  of 
all  the  churches.  Hers  is  the  largest  Foreign  Mis- 
sionary Societv  in  this  hemisphere,  and  the  next  to 
the  largest  in  the  world.  These  are  some  of  the 
tilings  the  Presbyterian  church  is  doing  to  them 
that  are  in  prison,  to  the  least  of  her  Master's  breth- 
ren—to Him.  Let  me  give  you  some  of  the  facts  of 
the  ])resent  year.  "China  is  awakening.  The  leth- 
argy of  the  centuries  is  being  broken  up,  and  there 
is  opportunity,  as  never  before  for  the  pushing  in  of 
a  pure  Christianity.  In  Korea,  the  membership  of 
the  churches  has  doubled  in  the  past  year.  The  king 
of  Korea  has  issued  a  proclamation  of  religious  lib- 
erty, and  the  land  is  wide  open  for  whoever  will  en- 
ter." Liberty  for  them  that  are  in  prison  in  this  far 
off  isle  of  the  sea.  In  India  the  church  is  getting 
nearer  and  nearer  the  288,000,000,  touching  them 
at  more  points  of  contact,  opening  the  prison  doors. 
The  millions  of  the  Laos  people  look  to  us  alone  for 
the  word  of  emancipation.  In  Japan,  in  Africa,  in 
South  America,  in  the  isles  of  the  sea,  this  great 
church  of  ours  is  carrying  forward  the  work  she  has 


FOREIGN  MISSIONS. 


133 


begun  in  other  years,  and  is  ever  knocking  at  the 
doors  of  other  prison  cells,  expanding  her  work,  and 
ministering  with  the  passing  months  to  these,  the 
least  of  the  Master's  brethren,  and  so  ministering  to 
Him.  So  she  is  standing  shoulder  to  shoulder  with 
the  sister  churches  of  America  and  Europe,  helping  to 

"Bear  along^, 
Round  the  earth's  electric  circle 
One  swift  flash  of  riffht  and  wrong." 

Avenging  the  wrongs  of  the  centuries.  Bringing  to 
imprisoned  humanity  the  everlasting  right. 

The  false  systems  of  religion,  in  which  the  nations 
have  been  educated,  have  been  tried  in  the  balance 
of  the  remorseless  past,  and  have  been  found  want- 
ing. We  ma}'  discover  in  their  books  many  exalted 
conceptions  of  truth.  We  may  meet  with  many 
refined  and  subtile  speculations.  There  is  poetry 
that  soars  amid  the  .stars,  and  metaphysics  that 
flounders  in  the  mud.  But  these  religions  have  not 
opened  the  prison  doors,  they  have  not  made  the 
prisoners  free.  Their  votaries,  the  masses  in  unnum- 
bered millions,  who  have  been  nurtured  in  their  bo- 
som, are  in  lowest  degradation,  dee])est  defilement, 
grossest  immorality.  "Bv  their  fruits,"  said  the 
Master,  "ye  shall  know  them."  We  ap])ly  that  test 
to  the  religions  of  the  world  to-day,  we  are  com- 
pelled to  do  so,  to  decide  aright  the  great  and  mo- 
mentous issues  that  are  involved  in  the  cause  of 
Foreign  Missions.  If  we  leave  these,  the  least  of  our 
Master's  brethren  that  are  "in  prison,"  to  the  min- 
istry  of  Buddhism,    Brahraanism,  Confucianism, 


134 


FOREIGN  MISSIONS. 


Laoism,  Mohammedanism,  any  of  the  antagonizing 
faiths  with  which  Christianity  is  coping;  if  we  re- 
tire from  the  field,  will  these  make  men  free?  Will 
these  open  prison  doors  ?  Will  these  sever  the  chains, 
and  end  the  bondage?  The  centuries  give  answer. 
These  have  been  building  the  prison  walls.  These 
have  been  barring  the  prison  doors.  These  have 
been  welding  the  prisoner's  chains.  And  a  world  in 
darkness  is  crying  out  for  our  ministry,  for  the 
world's  alone  Emancipator.  It  is  an  exalted 
privilege  that  comes  to  us,  beloved  friends,  in  this 
annual  call.  Are  we  no  thrilled  with  its  mightv 
possibility  ?  The  possibility  that  you  and  I,  b}^  some 
willing  offering  of  ours,  according  as  God  has  pros- 
pered us,  may  open  some  prison  door,  may  hear  the 
footstep  of  the  prisoner  as,  with  a  glad  and  happy 
ti-ead,  he  steps  forth  free,  and  while  we  look  into  his 
radiant,  beaming  face,  whether  white,  or  yellow,  or 
black,  or  red,  we  ma}'  see  the  face  of  Jesus,  and  know, 
down  in  our  hearts,  that  doing  it  to  the  least  of 
these,  his  brethren,  we  are  doing  it  unto  Him. 


